


Wharf Rat

by Katef



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-23 07:07:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 58,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2538809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katef/pseuds/Katef
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a perilous and turbulent future world, compatible guides are hard to find.  And even harder to bond with.<br/>Struggling Security Officer Sentinel Lieutenant Jim Ellison finds one in a most unexpected place.<br/>But can he keep him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wharf Rat

**Author's Note:**

> Although this story was written while I was feeling somewhat pessimistic in the face of so much depressing world-wide news, there is still a strong belief in a chance of happiness, so please don't despair! It is Jim and Blair after all - enough said.

**Wharf Rat                by Katef               August 2014.**

**Part 1: A Precarious Existence:**

**The near future, Cascade docklands:**

Heart pounding in his chest, the small, tattered figure sprinted across the rubble and trash-strewn space that lay between him and potential safety. Despite his urgency, he was canny enough to stick to the deeply shadowed areas cast by the almost full moon overhead, zigzagging from cover to cover as he furtively glanced around him for any signs of close pursuit.  The dilapidated and abandoned warehouse that served as his refuge beckoned him, and he took a deep, fortifying breath and darted out from the relative shelter of the last shadows and covered the final few yards, to throw himself through the narrow gap he used as a doorway, and collapsed in a breathless heap on the damp, dusty floor within.  He lay there for long moments, getting his breath back and trying to calm himself by finding his centre, as his Mom had taught him back in the happy days of his early childhood.  The days before civil war broke out again and North America was once more divided and embattled, the unity of the States a thing of the past.

Resolutely tamping down any inclination to wallow in futile reminiscing, Blair Sandburg pulled himself reluctantly to his feet, knowing that even now he wasn’t safe. Not until he had reached the small, concealed sanctuary deep within the battered structure which he sardonically called ‘home’.  A place where he could hole up and rest for a while.  At least until either hunger drove him out again, or the Party needed his services.  Services he didn’t want to render, but had no choice if he wanted to remain free.

With that thought uppermost in his mind, he glanced at the comm band locked around his left wrist, relieved to see that it was still inactive. He was too tired right now to contemplate responding to any summons, even though he knew he would be forced to, should it occur.  Right now, all he needed was sleep. 

Pushing his long, lank curls out of his face with shaking, dirty hands, he dragged himself wearily across the warehouse interior, stepping automatically around the obstacles of fallen girders and masonry; machine parts and other unrecognisable objects propped together and leaning precariously, apparently needing little more than a slight push to send them toppling to the floor to crush the slight young man who wound his way between them. Blair was well aware of the danger, but his fear of captivity was greater, so he trusted to whatever gods may still exist to protect him.

And if the worst should happen, well, just as long as he was killed outright, he couldn’t summon up any real trepidation. The never-ending anxiety involved in staying alive and free took up all his energy to the extent that sometimes he actually did wish it was all over.  In the dark, dismal wee small hours of the morning, when nightmares shook him awake and his psyche was at its lowest ebb, he might well question why he was so intent on preserving his life.  Whether it was worth the constant struggle?

But then he would think about those who depended on him. Depended on his ability to think on his feet and his consummate talent as a thief of both secrets and the material hardware and consumables needed to keep them alive.  The many other unfortunates trapped in the clutches of the Party through no fault of their own.  Just the convenient, unwitting but ultimately disposable means to an end.

As he curled up in his cosy nest of rags and cardboard, Blair sighed in both relief and self-directed wry humour.

Free? Who did he think he was kidding?

Staring in narrow-eyed disgust at the comm band around the wrist in front of his face he knew that the Party could – and would – terminate his contract the second he was of no further use to them, and that effectively meant death. Even if they didn’t do it themselves, he would be completely on his own, and it would only be a matter of time before some other desperate, dispossessed and unattached vagrant killed him for his meagre possessions, possibly making use of his body first.  Or then again, the Security forces might get him. 

And if his Mom was to be believed, that may well lead to a fate even worse than death.

Because if they found out about his gifts, there would be no escape. He would be enslaved for the remainder of his life.  At the beck and call of another, never to be his own man again.

No! No way could he allow himself to be caught. 

No way did he want to be bound to a Sentinel.

\----------------------------------------

As Blair sank into exhausted slumber, little did he realise that his block was being stealthily surrounded by a shadowy group of heavily-armed military types, intent on clearing out the remaining pockets of dissidents who hid themselves shamelessly amongst the ranks of the displaced and homeless.

Captain Simon Banks, a tall and powerful man of African American origins, stilled suddenly, holding up his hand to halt the approach of the personnel following him. He was closely watching his second in command, alert to the man’s reactions and happy to base his judgements and orders on the tacit information the man supplied.

Lieutenant Jim Ellison was an impressive figure, even in his dark, night-time camouflage gear. Over six feet tall, he was also powerfully built, but his musculature was even more developed than his taller commanding officer’s, since he took great pleasure in working out and spent as much time in the gym as possible.  He wasn’t in any way narcissistic, but the repetitious nature of physical activity had the capability to calm and relax him, whilst maintaining his body in peak condition so he could perform his duties to the best of his ability.

Lit by intermittent moonlight, his face beneath the smears of black paint was patrician in profile; handsome and sculpted; and in daylight his eyes were ice-blue and penetrating whilst the short hair beneath his helmet was light brown and receding slightly at the temples.

Right now, his head was cocked in an unconscious ‘listening’ pose, and Captain Banks waited patiently for his best man to reveal what he had heard. Because Jim Ellison was a Sentinel.  An individual born with a natural genetic advantage which meant that one or more senses were heightened to an exceptional degree.  In Jim’s case, all five senses were enhanced, which made him one of the rarest of his kind – an alpha sentinel, and thus highly prized by whatever society or establishment to which he might belong.

Sentinels had long been recognised as existing in pre-industrialised societies, but over the succeeding centuries had appeared to die out, presumably because their gifts were no longer needed as mankind progressed towards modern, so-called ‘civilised’, status.

However, in more recent decades, individuals once more began to manifest, such that scientists and anthropologists in particular were inclined to believe that the genes had always been there, just remaining dormant until needed.

And in a world becoming increasingly bellicose and antagonistic rather than harmonious, yet more sentinels appeared, such that many countries and governments created specialised departments to make the most of these talented individuals.  

Not that sentinels were universally on the side of the angels, so to speak. Criminal and clandestine organisations employed them also when they could be persuaded or coerced into cooperating, but whatever faction or role each sentinel filled, he or she only worked to their full capacity when accompanied by a genetically compatible companion or guide.  A helpmeet that could ground them while they used their senses, ensuring that they didn’t fall into a fugue state or zone.  This potentially life-threatening condition could occur when a sentinel concentrated so hard on the input from one sense that he or she became lost in it to the exclusion of everything else, leaving themselves and their comrades vulnerable to attack.

Since by their very nature guides tended to be empathic, ‘people persons,’ inclined to pursue peaceful occupations, military, or rather, combat-trained guides were in short supply. Most individuals were generally elusive and shy of being conscripted or enlisted unless it was to serve in medical or administrative roles. A serviceman such as Lt Ellison, therefore, had little chance of encountering a genuine volunteer guide, and even less chance that, having located such a volunteer, he or she should actually be compatible.

Captain Banks was well aware that his subordinate was on borrowed time as far as active duty was concerned. Although Ellison was such a talented alpha, and had managed to control his senses up until now with reasonable success, the effort cost him dearly, leaving him with frequent debilitating headaches and other painful side-effects such that the man was often short-tempered and irascible.  Even though they appreciated his contribution to the service and respected and admired Jim in the field, his comrades had learned to avoid unnecessary social contact as more often than not they got their friendly overtures thrown back in their faces.   Simon Banks was the nearest to a real friend that Ellison had now, and that was mainly because he wouldn’t take any nonsense from his subordinate, and, when all was said and done, he actually liked the guy when he wasn’t being plagued by his unruly senses.  After all, he had known the man before his senses manifested, and sometimes recalled somewhat wistfully the good friend he had recruited.

Yet despite everything, even un-guided Ellison was one of the strongest sentinels in the Cascade Security Corps, and Banks would be hard-put to replace him if the worst came to the worst and Ellison was either killed in action or died slowly from being irrevocably lost in a major zone-out.

Pushing such pessimistic thoughts to the back of his mind, Banks concentrated on controlling his own impatience as he awaited Ellison’s information, knowing that it would be worth the effort.

Sure enough, a few second later, Jim beckoned to his captain, keeping his voice low as he spoke.

“I can only hear one heartbeat, sir, in the nearest warehouse. It’s slow and steady, so whoever it is seems to be asleep.  There are other ones further down the dock in the next block, but they’re in Kowalski’s section.  I’d say he was looking at a minimum of thirty individuals, and judging by the heart rates, at least some of them are nervous or perhaps preparing for action.

“It’s a fair bet that there’s an active dissident cell close by, or at least some sort of criminal activity, so perhaps a word of warning, sir?”

Nodding his agreement, Banks tapped the comm band on his wrist and when he received and almost instantaneous tap in response, he whispered, “Lt Kowalski. Sentinel Ellison says there are at least thirty individuals in your vicinity, and some are alert and ready for action, so it’s a given that you have dissidents or criminal activity nearby.  We have one contact here, and as soon as we’ve dealt with it, we’ll move up to join you.

“Don’t go in until we get there, unless you have no option, OK?”

Hearing a satisfactory reply, he closed the link and nodded to Jim. “Go ahead, Jim.  Let’s see who’s hiding inside that rat-hole.”

Concentrating on controlling his senses by splitting his attention between hearing and sight, Jim crept forward, automatically following the most recent footprints he could make out crossing the broken ground immediately in front of him and leading to a small and barely-distinguishable gap in the ruined warehouse wall. Although virtually invisible to normal vision, he followed the spoor with ease, moving stealthily with the grace of the jaguar who was his spirit guide.  He slipped through the gap with no little difficulty due to his bulk, although the steady heartbeat of the warehouse’s lone occupant didn’t alter, suggesting that he slept on unaware of Jim’s approach.

Even though the interior was only dimly lit by the moonlight filtering through holes in the roof, Jim had no difficulty in avoiding the obstacles in his path, unerringly following sound and scent towards the furthest corner, where a pile of scrap metal and board had been piled up to create a well-camouflaged bolt-hole.

And the nearer he got to the small hiding place, the more intrigued he became by the individual’s scent.

True, the overwhelming aroma was one of sweat, dirt and unwashed humanity, but beneath it was a tantalising nuance of a delicious personal scent. A scent which called to the sentinel within, triggering a deep desire to take hold of this person and investigate further.  The scent of a Guide.

Suddenly there was an abrupt change in both sound and scent as the heartbeat began to race and the scent was overlaid even more by the sour tang of terror. Even as Jim hurried to close the distance between him and his prey, he realised that the target was moving rapidly away.

“Shit! Captain!  The target’s making a run for it – must have an emergency exit at the back of the building!  You’ll have to grab him as he comes out.

“And Captain – don’t kill him! He’s a Guide….”

\-----------------------------------

Blair had been deeply asleep, enjoying the dreamless slumber of the totally exhausted. However, an inner instinct for self-preservation was still alert enough to urge him to wakefulness as the empath sensed a threatening presence approaching.  _No! It couldn’t be!_ His panicked thoughts raced through his brain.

_But only a sentinel would be able to find me, unless whoever it is had inside information. It’s too well hidden.  I **know** it is!_

And he rolled quickly out of his coverings and squirmed hastily through the tiny gap behind him that he had prepared for just such an unlikely occurrence. With a wriggle and a few shoves against the broken siding in front of him, he was out and running as fast as he could down the narrow alley behind the warehouse, heading for the freedom offered by the ruined dockland buildings beyond.

Except that he never got there.

He slammed suddenly into a solid barrier in the form of Captain Banks, and was prevented from rebounding from the broad, armoured chest only by the strong arms which wrapped immediately around him, pinning his arms to his sides and threatening to squeeze the air from his lungs.

“Hold still, Rat! Or be tasered.  Don’t care which, but stop fighting me!” the deep voice growled into Blair’s ear as he was lifted bodily off his feet, only to grunt as one of Blair’s flailing toes made contact with the big man’s unprotected shin.

“Little shit! That’s enough!” and Blair gasped in sudden agony as the man shifted his grip slightly to locate and press down hard on a pressure point, immediately immobilising his captive who slumped bonelessly in his arms with a moan of pain.

Just then, Ellison ran up to join them, followed by the rest of the patrol. Banks read the expression on his subordinate’s face, frowning at the combination of irritation, confusion and concern colouring the handsome features.

“Is he OK, sir? You didn’t hurt him too much?”

“No, Ellison, just enough to stop the little rat from nailing my shins. He’s a scrapper for sure.  And he stinks!  What do you want me to do with him?  Because I have to say that my preference is to call up the wagon and send him to the processing centre.  He won’t have been up to anything good in this neighbourhood.  Might even be acting for the Party.  See?” and he nodded at the comm band on the kid’s wrist.  “That’s not one of ours, for sure.”

Jim frowned at the contraption, knowing his commanding officer was correct. So the guide was on the Party’s payroll, was he?  That was certainly a problem, but one Jim was sure he could overcome.  This odoriferous bundle was already affecting his senses positively whether he intended to or not.  The sentinel realised that everything was settling better than he could recall since coming fully online following a solitary stake-out; each sense sharper and more easily controlled than ever before.

And he was convinced that, once bonded with this guide, he would be able at last to use his gifts to their maximum capacity; something he had desired ever since he had known he carried the sentinel gene.

And if the guide didn’t like it, well, too bad. Needs must, as they say, and Jim’s needs had to be met if he was to continue to function in his role.

“I think he’s my guide, sir. I know it seems unlikely, but I’m sure of it.  My senses are functioning better than I’ve ever known, and only a compatible guide could do that.

“If it’s OK with you, sir, I’ll secure him in the unit until this operation’s over. And once we get him back to HQ, I’ll take responsibility for him.  If that meets with your approval, Captain?”

And perhaps against his better judgement, Simon Banks found himself agreeing to Jim’s request.

\-------------------------------------------

**Some hours later, back at Cascade Security Corps’ HQ:**

Sentinel Lt Ellison prowled around the featureless box that served as one of the Security Corps’ interview rooms. As he circled, he catalogued every detail of the small figure sitting slumped at the battered metal table, obstinately refusing to meet Jim’s gaze as he stared resolutely at the restraints around his wrists.  The kid had yet to speak a word, even to plead for his freedom, and Jim’s patience was wearing thin.  And as for the sentinel in him, he was finding it harder and harder to control his primal instinct just to throw the recalcitrant brat to the floor and force the sexual bond on him whether he liked it or not.

However, he hadn’t reached that stage just yet, and fervently hoped it wouldn’t come to that, although the possibility loomed closer every minute the guide refused to even look at him. It certainly wouldn’t be any hardship as far as Ellison was concerned.  Like most sentinels, he was comfortable with his bi-sexuality, since some of the best pairings were single sex, and the strongest and deepest relationships required the sexual act to complete the full bond.

And the kid was certainly beautiful. Huge blue eyes dominated an arrestingly attractive face with high cheekbones, a neat nose and strong jaw below one of the lushest and most kissable mouths Jim had ever seen on either male or female.  Now almost clinically clean, the small figure was dressed simply in a one-piece orange jumpsuit, and the abundant locks were caught back loosely in a tie at the kid’s nape.  Jim could almost lose himself in the myriad shades of brown and auburn, and his fingers tingled to run through the silky curls.  The compact but perfectly proportioned body was too thin, evidence of the kid’s hard lifestyle, but Jim found it hard to determine his actual age.  The face was smooth and youthful despite signs of recent stress and privation, but the absence of body hair confused the issue somewhat.

Although it wasn’t unheard of for Northern Alliance guides to have their body hair permanently removed in deference to their sentinel’s touch sensitivity, it was also frequently found in the Party’s lowlier operatives and recruits, especially those forced to work either in Party-run brothels or in other less than pleasant environments simply as a matter of convenience in areas with few if any amenities. Jim was pretty certain that this kid was one of the latter examples, because for sure his handlers wouldn’t have let a precious commodity such as a guide run loose.  It wasn’t a painful process after all, and Jim was just grateful that the kid had kept his curls as well as his eyebrows and luxurious lashes. 

 

If Jim had but known it, Blair was actually thinking much the same thing. He knew for sure that, had he been unable to conceal his empathy and his guide capability he would undoubtedly have been forcibly bonded to one of the Party’s tame sentinels, and that was something that didn’t bear thinking of. 

But he didn’t want to be bonded to this sentinel either. The very thought was terrifying, and Blair had to forcibly clamp down on an unintentional moan of despair as he tried desperately to keep his cool, outwardly at least.  He was well aware that any sentinel worth his salt would easily discern his racing heart and smell the sourness of sweat and fear oozing from his pores, but he didn’t have to make it easy for the bastard.  Biting his lip, he stared fixedly at his bound hands resting on the table in front of him, and concentrated instead on everything that had befallen him since his capture at the warehouse.

\-----------------------------------------

Despite the persistent wooziness caused by the pain of his captor’s immobilisation technique, he recalled being bundled into the patrol’s armoured transporter, and being securely cuffed to a purpose-built ringbolt in the rear of the vehicle. Although unable to do little more than twitch feebly, thanks to the residual effects of said immobilisation technique, he had still struggled as much as he could to free himself, his innate obstinacy and abject fear of captivity spurring him on.  It had seemed like an age until the patrol returned, laughing and joking amongst themselves in a combination of relief that no one had been seriously injured and pride in a job successfully carried out.  Although peripherally aware that several others had climbed in the back with him, Blair only had eyes for one.  The one he feared the most.  The one the Captain had addressed as Ellison.  The Sentinel.

That man had settled immediately next to Blair, a proprietorial gleam in his eyes. After subjecting him to a thorough and appraising look, he had leaned over, ignoring Blair’s automatic flinch, and had pressed and rubbed at a spot just below his armpit.  The residual pain from the captain’s touch eased immediately, and although Blair still felt as limp as a wet noodle, at least the cramping pains were no more and his abused muscles began to relax a little in relief.

He had no intention of thanking the guy though. For all he knew, it was simply a matter of convenience to have a prisoner who was able to walk on his own two feet.  Refusing to even acknowledge the big man’s presence, he turned his gaze away and stared instead at the side of the truck facing him, concentrating fiercely on counting the rivets in the armour plating rather than giving the man the satisfaction of seeing Blair’s interest in him.

Because Blair couldn’t help but be curious in spite of himself, even if that curiosity was primarily driven by self-interest. The man was tall, almost as tall as the man who had grabbed him, but Blair could tell he was more buff, and a few years younger than his commanding officer.  True, he was handsome, in a Greek god kind of way which normally would have Blair drooling at the sight, but his expression was stern and cold, and the empath was uncomfortably aware that as yet he could detect no soft edges to be manipulated in the sentinel’s overall demeanour.

Withdrawing into himself, Blair determined to conserve his energy, and try and find some other means of persuasion, because for sure there would be no escape from this mess unless it was down to the increasingly unlikely possibility that he could talk his way out.

On arrival at the large, utilitarian building that housed the Cascade Security Corps’ HQ, Blair barely had time to glance around him as he was bundled out of the vehicle and hurried into the building, Ellison virtually dragging him down several almost identical corridors until he was pushed into an open plan shower room. He was handed over to two large attendants who stripped him of his filthy rags despite his indignant struggles and he was pushed under the spray of a big shower head and thoroughly scrubbed down with impersonal competence.  If it hadn’t been for the fact that he could have done without the embarrassment of his unwanted helpers’ presence, Blair could almost have purred at the luxurious sensation of the hot water beating down on him, washing him clean for the first time in months and massaging tense and painful muscles.

All too soon, however, he was pulled out again and pushed instead into a large air dryer unit, which dried hair and body in a matter of minutes. Blair was grateful for the warmth, as he had been perpetually cold during his months hanging around the waterfront, but he was also ruefully aware that his hair was now a cloud of frizzy curls around his head, so was pleased to find a hair tie along with the coverall he was handed.

Pulling on the clothing as instructed, he gathered up his long tresses and secured them at his nape, then wordlessly followed his guards to the next port of call, which proved to be a workshop of sorts, and Blair realised that his captors were about to remove his comm link.

Still obstinately refusing to give them the pleasure of hearing him ask for a little consideration, he had been mightily relieved when a dispassionate but professional medic pressed a hypo-spray of local anaesthetic against his wrist. Although the bracelet could be cut off with relative ease, the subcutaneous chip deep within his wrist would be more difficult to remove, and even with the anaesthetic, Blair couldn’t help but flinch as the tiny object was located and swiftly pulled out.

As expected, within seconds both the bracelet and chip had self-destructed, but almost certainly not before sending an automated signal back to base.  Blair was ruefully aware that his handlers would now know that he was either dead or captured.  Either way, he was of no more use to them, and he prayed that his disappearance wouldn’t have a detrimental effect on those unfortunates for whose sake he had reluctantly continued to carry out his distasteful duty.

And now here he was. Locked in a tiny room with an almost primal sentinel.

And as the utter hopelessness of the situation struck him anew, despair welled up in him again, this time escaping in a choked-off whimper of pure terror as he fought a losing battle to contain tears of helpless dread which threatened to spill down his cheeks as a panic attack of massive proportions built inexorably within him.

Jim recognised the instant that the guide – _his_ guide – was in trouble, and his wordless growl was born of as much worry as exasperation as he reached for the trembling body.  The young man was hyper-ventilating now, his eyes wide in panic as tears finally streamed unchecked down his pale face, yet despite his rapidly deteriorating condition, he still tried to pull away from Jim’s clutches.

But the sentinel was having none of it. He was in full-on Blessed Protector mode, and would help the guide whether the guide approved or not.

And as he cuddled the shaking body close, he luxuriated in the way his senses wrapped themselves around the smaller man, the pull to mate and claim growing inexorably the more he indulged himself.

But there was just enough left of Jim the rational and caring man to exert a modicum of control over his primal self. The young man may be outwardly clean and tidy, but the gods only knew what diseases he might have picked up at the waterfront.  Although he could smell no evidence of such, the kid might have been forced to barter his body in return for favours, and there was no way in hell that Jim would put himself at risk until the young man had had a thorough medical exam and been given a clean bill of health.  He was not yet so far gone as to rape the helpless guide, but he could and would imprint him and mark him for his own.  And once he knew the kid was clean, he could and would bond fully with him.  But until then, as far as any unbonded sentinels were concerned, the guide would be seen to be claimed, and off the market to any other until such time as the full bond could be achieved.

Jim would make sure of it.

As Blair continued to struggle feebly even though his vision was beginning to sparkle with the effects of his fight to draw enough air into his starving lungs, deep within himself a tiny part of him perversely acknowledged that he felt more secure in the sentinel’s powerful arms than he had any right to. The empath could tell that the big man had every intention of binding Blair to him, whether Blair wanted it or not, but the deep, normally unacknowledged loneliness within him called for companionship and support.  His breathing began to ease little by little as the sentinel rocked him soothingly, until, worn out by his struggles, he relaxed in Jim’s arms and rested his heavy head against the bigger man’s shoulder.

He would have been content to rest there for longer, except that he suddenly realised what was happening, and that the sentinel was taking the opportunity to imprint him fully. Smell, sight, touch and hearing were already in the bag for sure, and Jim only needed taste to complete the working bond, and he was about to take care of that.  Blair raised his head, suddenly aware of Jim’s intentions, only to have the sentinel’s mouth take his in a possessive kiss.  For a few seconds, Blair responded eagerly, his inner guide drawn to this man - this sentinel – who would be his and his alone.  But then his rational self kicked in, and he fought to pull his mouth away from the wet heat tasting and ravishing him.

However, Jim was having none of it. So, the guide didn’t want to be kissed yet?  Well, taste could be satisfied in another way, and Jim didn’t intend to deny himself any longer.  He bit down suddenly at the soft skin of Blair’s elegant neck, where it met the shoulder, and latched on, ignoring the guide’s single scream of denial.  Although not biting hard enough to break the skin, he sucked and gnawed, savouring the delicious flavour of the now quiescent guide.  The mark he was creating there would leave no one in any doubt that the young man was claimed and marked, and as the imprinting was completed, Jim felt the barriers around the empath’s mind open just enough for Jim to push his way in to the other man’s consciousness, quickly exploring and seeking out as much information as he could glean at this early stage.

For sure, once they bonded fully, there would be no part of his guide that would be closed to him, as his own mind would be fully open to the guide, but for now, this partial bond was enough to tantalise him and pique his curiosity. And also establish the first permanent ties between them.

What he now knew was that his guide was called Blair Sandburg, and he was barely twenty-one years old. His only known living relative was his mother, Naomi Sandburg, and her present whereabouts were unknown to the young guide.  The tantalising glimpses Jim had seen of his guide’s life thus far suggested a happy and unrestricted childhood, but the more recent years hinted at a life of privation and depth of fear Jim could only guess at.  But it was his duty now to cherish this scrap of humanity, for his own sake as much as for the guide’s, and he determined to do just that.

He pushed the limp figure in his arms away from him slightly so he could look down into suddenly shy and sorrowful eyes. He couldn’t help the gleam of proud possession in his own gaze, pleasure in his achievement uppermost in his expression as he grinned fiercely at the young man.

“My Guide. Only mine!” he growled, feeling stronger and more centred than ever before, grimly satisfied that things could only get better once the full bond had been achieved.

He shouldn’t have been surprised when his guide exhibited something much less than satisfaction. Meeting his sentinel’s ice-blue gaze, his requisite response was soft; coloured by the despair that threatened to overwhelm him.  He was bound to this man now whether he liked it or not, and his life, such as it was, was no longer his own.

“Your Guide, Sentinel. Only yours…” and he lowered his head again, unable to prevent the single fat tear that leaked from behind his closed lids, to run down his cheek and drip onto the back of Jim’s hand.

His pleasure at hearing his Guide’s beautiful speaking voice at last was muted by the pain in the rich tones, and Jim frowned in consternation as he stared at the crown of the curly, down-bent head.

\-----------------------------------------

**Part 2: The State of the Union:**

**Six years ago: Jim.**

Jim sat in a comfortable enough bar in his home city of Cascade, WA. He was nursing a beer as he shared a few sociable hours with his friend, and potentially new boss, Captain Simon Banks of Cascade Central PD, Major Crimes Unit.   Jim had himself up until recently held the rank of Captain in the Army Rangers, but had recently resigned his commission, having grown progressively more disillusioned with his chosen career.  Although a respected and decorated officer, he had witnessed first-hand the increasing level of dissatisfaction within the ranks as he and his comrades watched the self-serving and increasingly acrimonious and devious wrangling between the top brass and the many and varied politicos wanting to control the military for their own ends.  It was a fact that the United States as it was at present was in serious trouble, and the most recent developments suggested to Jim that it wouldn’t be long until his country found itself once more in the grip of civil war, although, like every loyal and patriotic serviceman, he prayed that it wouldn’t come to that.  A country divided was a country vulnerable to attack from without and within, and it pained Jim to even think about the potential consequences.

Unfortunately, he was about to be disappointed.

Just as he was about to respond to a ribald comment from his companion, his attention was caught by the holo-screen above the bar, where a worried-looking anchorman was delivering an emergency news update.

Jim and Simon listened in bitter resignation to the bulletin, which informed them that Texas had seceded once again from the Union, and had carried several other disgruntled southern states along with her.

The worst had indeed happened, and America was once more on the brink of descending into internal conflict.

Both men sat in stunned and introspective silence for a few moments, trying to assimilate and accept the bombshell they had just witnessed. However, after a relatively short interval, Simon looked up, and met Jim’s perplexed gaze with an intense and resolute one of his own.

“Well, Jim, my man. Much as I hoped I would never hear that bulletin, I have to say that I, and many others like me, had feared and anticipated the worst, and have made appropriate contingency plans.

“If you’re still looking for a job at the PD, there’s one for you, but not exactly what you would have expected. In the light of likely civil unrest and worse, the newly-projected Northern Alliance, to which I admit to being loyal, have put into place plans to combine the talents and resources of both the military and law enforcement agencies in order to contain the likely burgeoning of crime and potential conflict.

“Basically, it’ll be referred to simply as the Security Corps, and each allied city and state will have its own branches, but all ultimately answering to the new central government once it is reformed. But until that has been done, there’s bound to be plenty of upheaval and plenty of opportunists out there, so we need to be ready.

“So, if you’re still interested in serving your city, Jim, come, join us. We’re surely going to need every good man we can get…”

Jim stared at his beer glass for long moments, trying to assimilate his friend’s words. He had to admit he was definitely interested in Simon’s proposition, even if it was far from the career as a simple cop he had envisaged for himself. _So much for a quieter life!_ he thought ruefully.

But the dire straits threatening his country, and particularly the city of his birth had struck deeply, undoubtedly – as he would later realise – due to a great extent to the latent sentinel within, already looking to protect his tribe.

Nevertheless, he had no intention of jumping in at the deep end until he had a bit more information.

“OK, Simon. Let’s say I’m interested in theory.  Just how much preparation has been put into this new set-up, and how long has it been in the pipeline?  So, it’s part military, part law enforcement, you say.  What I want to know is, will it actually work? _Can_ it work?”

And Simon answered him as honestly as he could, holding Jim’s gaze with a steady and assessing one of his own.

“Honestly, Jim? It’s been in the pipeline for a few years now.  That’s not to say that we all hoped for the go-ahead, but we needed to be ready.  And as to your last question, well, yes.  It has to work, or we’re all looking at a total breakdown in society as we know it.  Every man – and woman – for himself.

“For sure, there’s going to be civil unrest. You and I both know trouble’s been brewing for years now, and it’s only a matter of time before there’s bloodshed.  And who knows where the National Guard’s loyalty will fall if the union breaks apart?  Fragmentation is pretty much a given.

“What I can tell you is that every major city in what we are already referring to as the Northern Alliance has set up just such a contingency plan to amalgamate their police and security forces, although god knows we don’t want to use them against otherwise law-abiding citizens who simply believe they can choose autonomy rather than any form of central or federal government.

“But whatever happens now, there’s going to be trouble, and soon. The criminal element is going to be rubbing their hands in glee at the prospect of benefitting from the initial chaos which is guaranteed to ensue.  And just think of all those folks who disagree with their state’s legislators!  All those who can are going to want to relocate- hell, even _emigrate_ \- if possible, so there’s potentially a massive population movement in the making.

“And think about it, goddammit! Those who can’t or won’t move sure as hell won’t sit back and be dictated to.  They’re going to retaliate, and that means potential violence.

“No, Jim. We’re going to need to recruit the best candidates we can get for this new force, as fast as possible.  And that means you, Jim.

“Are you in?”

Jim regarded his friend searchingly for a long moment before sighing gustily. He could see the writing on the wall even if he didn’t like it, so his capitulation was inevitable.  He could do no less.

“OK, Simon. I get what you’re saying.  So.  When do I start?”

And Simon clapped him on the shoulder, grinning fiercely.

“How about tomorrow, Jim? Report to Central PD at 0800 hours and we’ll take it from there….”

\-----------------------------

The next few years inevitably proved to be a rollercoaster ride for the majority of the residents of the former United States. Perhaps the least affected were the groups of self-contained and determinedly self-sufficient survivalists who existed in the wilderness, jealously guarding their freedom.  The more sparsely-populated predominantly agricultural mid-western states also clung desperately to an uneasy neutrality, dealing with the self-proclaimed Northern and Southern Alliances as expedient.  However, in cities and conurbations everywhere there was no such luxury, and life became hard, and frequently precarious.

Even before Texas broke away from the Union, the two main parties had long since failed to find any common ground to enable them to work together for the benefit of the country as a whole. The old Republican party were increasingly driven by ultra-Right Wing conservatives and the type of rhetoric churned out by likes of rabid isolationists, religious fanatics and Aryan extremists.  On the other hand, the Democrats drifted further left, pulled by those demanding sweeping social reforms and the redistribution of the wealth that still remained stubbornly in the hands of a few super-rich oligarchs.

The final straw came when the Democrats who were nominally in power made the first serious effort to repeal the Second Amendment. There was an immediate out-and-out revolt, not just from millions of legal firearms owners and users; and extreme NRA members, truth be told; but also from those citizens who saw it as an attempt to curtail basic civil liberty, and were prepared to object in principle on those grounds.  And of course the criminal element simply rubbed their hands in glee at the prospect of potentially fewer weapons in the hands of citizens.  Being less able to defend themselves meant that they were more open to victimisation, particularly home invasion, because no gun ban would ever affect the illegal firearms easily accessible to criminals and terrorists.  And if the ban failed once again, the criminals still won out this time around, because the resulting civil unrest left the door open for gangs to sweep in and take what they wanted anyway.

The governor of Texas finally declared that his state could stand no more, so, along with a loose alliance of several other southern states, stated their intention of seceding once more from the Union on the grounds of irreconcilable ideological and financial differences. Many of the poorer southern states still nursed grievances against the richer, industrial North, some even dating back to the previous civil war.

The North, including the Pacific North West, in their turn waited complacently for sheer necessity to drive the secessionists back to the fold, but they hadn’t reckoned with the influence of vast criminal consortia such as the Eastern European mafia and South American drug cartels. Such organisations were only too glad to step in and finance the struggling states in return for an ever-increasing foothold in the social infrastructure. There were vast profits to be made in illegal activities of all kinds, while crooked politicians and many public officials were easily bought.

And it had to be said that the phenomenon wasn’t restricted to the southern states. The influence of the rich and powerful – and power-hungry – crime lords soon began to make itself felt within the Northern Alliance also, such that the law enforcement agencies were perpetually stretched to the limit.

And what of the military response to the upheaval?

In many cities and states where those of vastly differing ideologies either couldn’t – or wouldn’t – leave, as Simon had predicted, frequent localised confrontations leading to violence broke out, often devastating large urban areas. Local military bases responded, and the escalating bloodshed reached alarming proportions very quickly.  The displacement of large numbers of either homeless or otherwise disaffected people caused chaos at hastily erected border crossings, exacerbated by the country’s increasing isolation from the outside world.

Canada swiftly closed her borders as best she could against the droves of refugees clamouring to enter and it had to be said that there was little or no help to be had from former European allies. Europe had its own troubles trying to contain ever more violent political and religious strife in the Middle East, and Australasia basically pulled in on itself, adopting a virtually isolationist policy and only really interacting when necessary with China which was occupying a similar wait-and-see position.

The one good thing thus far was that all factions had had the sense not to employ anything as devastating as nuclear or chemical weapons of mass destruction within the continent, but they could and did employ standard weapons and armaments when circumstances dictated. However, there was always the fear that some random fanatic might be tempted to use extreme measures, so the sensible component of whatever faction may be in power in areas where such bases and missile silos were located kept them tightly locked down in the cause of self-preservation.

More recently, a war-weary population had adopted an uneasy truce. Driven by expediency, loose alliances between states were formed, broken and re-formed when individual states found they couldn’t go it alone.

But all the while, a new, focussed and ambitious – and potentially disastrous – opposition party was gaining ground country-wide. Generally referred to as simply ‘The Party’, it was the public face overlaying a coalition of powerful criminal elements who continually fuelled the economy, gaining control and power at all levels as they manipulated society’s underbelly as easily as their tame, corrupt public figures preyed on the vulnerable and forced otherwise law-abiding citizens to recognise them, if not actively support them.

And between them and the fragmented elements that made up the Northern Alliance stood the Security Forces. The ‘Thin Black Line’ that worked night and day to keep the fragile peace and hold the darkest elements of ‘The Party’ at bay.

As a serving officer in the Security Forces, Jim Ellison had been forced to see and do things of which he would never have believed himself capable, but he had done them nevertheless as he fought alongside his comrades to maintain some sort of status quo. Combining his proven military skills with newly-acquired law enforcement techniques he was a very capable and popular member of his elite team, soon rising to become Simon Banks’ second in command.

However, after a prolonged solitary stake-out, his latent senses had finally come fully on-line, and his life had changed abruptly. He had known all along that there was every possibility that he would manifest at some point, and had done as much preparation as he could in advance, but even knowing in theory what would happen was no true indication of the impact of the real thing.  Adopting all the tried and trusted measures designed to tone down his physical discomfort definitely helped to a certain extent, but it was sheer will-power and practice that enabled him to regain and keep a modicum of control over his senses in the field.

His enhanced ability made him even more a force to be reckoned with, but the cost in sheer, concentrated effort eventually showed in his behaviour and general attitude towards his erstwhile friends, such that his social life latterly had dwindled to almost nothing.

And the only action that could alter the situation was bonding with a compatible guide, something Jim had never wanted to do, even if such a guide could be found.

Until, that was, he had the luck to meet up with Blair Sandburg. And he was going to make sure he made the most of his good fortune.

\-----------------------------

**Six years previously: Blair:**

In the administrative building at Rainier University, Cascade, WA, Blair Sandburg exited the Student Registration office, a stunned expression on his face as he closed the door behind him with exaggerated care. In truth, he felt poleaxed, but in the best possible way, and couldn’t have prevented the beaming smile that spread across his face if he’d been paid to do so.  At just turned sixteen years of age, he had been told that he had successfully passed the entrance exam and had been granted a place to study for his bachelor’s degree, commencing in the Fall.  He was well aware that he had many obstacles facing him, particularly those arising from his tender years and the need to find temporary accommodation and a source of income until he could move into the dorm room he had been allocated, but right now such issues came a poor second to the overwhelming relief and joy he felt at gaining his heart’s desire.  He was almost bouncing as he left the building, his smile so radiant and uncomplicated that even the most studiedly insouciant students couldn’t help but to grin back in response to his innocent pleasure.

The only child of a peripatetic hippy single Mom, Blair had travelled the world during his short life, absorbing new cultures and societies with glee, and learning new traditions and religions as he went. It undoubtedly sparked his love of Anthropology, the subject in which he intended to major now he had been accepted at Rainier.  It just so happened that his hero, Dr Eli Stoddard, the renowned anthropologist and expert in Sentinel Studies was the senior professor in that department and Blair cherished his dream of studying with the man.

Blair had either accompanied his Mom Naomi on her travels, or, it had to be said, had been left behind on many occasions to more or less fend for himself in the care of ‘friends’, who may or may not have appreciated being landed with the responsibility of looking out for him.

The upside of this lifestyle meant that Blair had experienced more in a few short years than most of his fellow students, or even teachers had done; something that was noticeable every time he had the opportunity of attending class in places where they stayed for a long enough time to enrol in the local schools. Blair loved to study, and in an unsettled childhood, education was a constant for him to latch on to when even Naomi fell down in that role.

Unfortunately, being invariably the brightest and youngest pupil in his class had its problems in that Blair was frequently mocked or bullied, or intimidated by kids wanting to pick his brains and do their homework for them. Yet he had made a few friends, which caused even more pain, as he was always having to leave them behind once his Mom’s wanderlust took hold again.  He had learned the hard way therefore not to give of his heart in any acquaintanceship, so as not to hurt or be hurt when the inevitable parting came.

And watching Naomi drift from one partner to another, ‘detaching with love’ and leaving a trail of broken hearts behind her, Blair also learned that sexual gratification and ‘love’ were one and the same thing as far as his Mom was concerned, and he determined to protect himself at all costs from being either user or victim in the same way.

Eventually, Blair had tired of his rootless lifestyle, so, despite Naomi’s misgivings, had persuaded her to let him test for early entry at Rainier. He sent in his formal application, knowing that his lack of official qualifications meant that he would have to take an entrance exam, but determined to do so anyway.  With little or no money to pay for the trip from Dallas, where his mother was staying at present, he had bummed a ride with his uncle Robert, a long-distance truck driver, to take him at least to Seattle where Robert’s cargo was to be delivered.  Robert may or may not have been an actual blood relative, but whatever the case, he was an amiable man who was genuinely fond of the bouncy, curly haired kid, so he agreed to take Blair with him, even dropping him off in Cascade en route, for which consideration Blair was extremely grateful.

On arrival in Cascade, Blair reported first to the university’s student enrolment administrator to arrange a time to sit the exam. He also handed over what he had in terms of completed work for the examiners’ perusal, and with those important tasks taken care of; he set about finding himself somewhere to stay. 

A resourceful and independent youth, he had first sought out various hostels, but found even the cheapest outside the range of his meagre savings over the long term unless he could find a temporary job quickly. After several hours of fruitless wandering, he spotted a shelter for the homeless not far from the university campus, and on impulse he went in.

The New Dawn Shelter was surprisingly neat and well-kept despite the age of the building housing it and the rather run-down area in which it was located. When Blair walked into the reception area, he was greeted by a short, rather stocky African American woman whose face wore a ready smile as she studied him candidly.  She looked to be in her early middle age, and Blair warmed to her immediately, his empathy telling him that she was good people.

“And what can we do for you, my darlin’?” she asked in a warm contralto voice. “You look as if you’ve just arrived in town, am I right?  And I’m betting you’re looking for somewhere to stay within your price range, huh?”

At Blair’s shy grin and nod of assent, her grin widened further as she beckoned him into her tiny office. Offering him a seat in front of her tidy if elderly desk, she introduced herself as Rosie, the shelter’s manager.  When Blair confirmed her suspicions, she continued, “I guessed as much, hon.  You don’t look homeless, but you sure look like you need a friend.  Do you have any plans?” she asked kindly, plainly sincerely interested in what he had to say.

Knowing instinctively that he could trust her, he told her everything about his hopes and dreams, actually pouring out far more information about himself than he intended into her sympathetic ear while she actively encouraged him to talk.

Less than two hours and two cups of tea later, Blair had a bed for as long as he needed it in return for helping out in the shelter, plus his meals, and in Rosie, he had a friend for life.

And when he was accepted at Rainier, it was Rosie who was the first person to share his good news.

\-------------------------------

For the remainder of the summer, Blair lived and worked at the shelter, making himself useful wherever he could. Cheerful and hard-working, he was an immediate success with the rest of the volunteer staff, and very popular with many of the regular visitors, even if they only saw him at mealtimes.  He was happy enough in himself as he very much enjoyed interacting with so many different people, some of whom were real characters with whom he could share a laugh and a joke or even deep discussion on occasion on all manner of topics.  However, he was conscious of the growing stress and tension beginning to affect every aspect of life at the shelter, and one would have to be totally blinkered and self-absorbed not to realise how society was changing, and not for the better.  Certainly Rosie and her staff were well aware of the worsening effects of the political situation, especially as the numbers of displaced and homeless persons rose alarmingly as the days went by. 

Always busy, the shelter was now bursting at the seams as Rosie and her team tried to squeeze in even more beds, but even then many people were turned away disappointed every evening when the shelter closed for the night. However, all the staff worked hard to try and prepare as much food as possible, so at least those sleeping in the streets had something hot inside them.  It was undoubtedly the same at Cascade’s other shelters and hostels as they tried to cope with the problem.

As far as Blair was concerned, some of the most touching cases were the young single mothers who were forced to seek shelter with their babies and children who would otherwise be condemned to trying to survive out in the streets. Some had been homeless for some time, probably becoming pregnant while trying to survive by turning tricks or begging, but others were left to fend for themselves when their partners were forced to move to seek work elsewhere.  When they arrived at the shelter, Blair took it upon himself to help with the children, organising games and trying to provide at least a little distraction from the harsh reality of their lives, and earning a lot of appreciation from the young women for giving them a few hours of welcome rest.

Eventually, however, it was time to begin his studies, and take up his allocated place in the dorm. Rosie and the other staff members – and many of his new friends – hugged him and wished him well, and he promised he would come back to help out whenever he could, knowing that even a few hours would ease the burden for the others.

\---------------------------------------------

Within a few weeks, Blair was settled in at Rainier, although things weren’t universally satisfactory. He was thoroughly enjoying his studies, throwing himself headlong into his coursework, and absorbing information like a sponge.  He had already managed to get himself noticed by Dr Stoddard, who, like the majority of his teachers, was enchanted by his eagerness and precocious intelligence, and Blair already knew that he wanted to major in anthropology.

However, on the other hand, he wasn’t so popular with his peers, once again being too young, too bright and already exceeding expectations. He had yet to make any close friends, although he didn’t have any trouble from his roommate in the dorm.  Clive Wainwright was a quiet young man, as restrained and prim as Blair was bouncy and enthusiastic.  Over a year older than Blair despite being in the same intake, he was primarily interested in Forensic Science, but for that reason alone he and Blair connected, rubbing along companionably enough since Blair was fascinated by that field of study also and was happy to discuss any aspect when invited.

Yet despite his lack of social activity on campus, Blair didn’t feel unduly concerned or lonely, because he had been as good as his word, and spent every spare hour he could at the shelter, sometimes even sleeping on the floor of Rosie’s office after staying on to help with the evening chores.

And it was after one such late-night shift that his world tilted on its axis, and he found himself, like so many others, deeply affected by a dramatic turn of events and its inevitable consequences which swept across the whole country.

\------------------------------------------

The evening when the secession was announced, Blair was working in the library, immersed in volumes from the Anthropology bookstacks. Oblivious to the reactions outside the building, when he emerged some hours later he was shocked at the sight of so many students and teachers milling around the campus, and was swept up in an astonishing and rather frightening atmosphere of part horror, part jubilation and part aggression, depending on which group of students one encountered.  Unwilling to be pulled into any debate or potential confrontation right then, Blair slipped away unnoticed to take refuge in his room, where he found Clive doing the same thing.

“Shit, Sandburg, where’ve you been? I was beginning to think you’d joined in with the lunatics out there.  What the hell are we supposed to do now?  The United States as we know it doesn’t exist anymore!”

“Sorry, man, I was in the library. I had no idea what was going on.  Had to ask someone, because I thought we were at war or something.”

“Well, I guess we probably are at that, kiddo,” his roommate grumbled morosely. “Who’d have thought it would come to this?  I thought for sure the idiots in the government would have found some sort of sensible compromise, but I guess that was too much to hope for.  And my Dad always said that state governors had _waaaayyyy_ too much power!

“So what do you think will happen to us here? Do you think universities will be forced to close?”

Running his fingers through his unruly curls, Blair sighed deeply before answering. “Honestly?  I really don’t know, Clive.  I mean, I’d hope that institutions like this would have some sort of contingency plan to fall back on, but who knows?  If the administrators and Board of Governors are as much at odds as the politicians, we might all be sent home.

“And I _really_ don’t want that to happen…” he added, voice tailing off into silence as he contemplated that possibility.

It wasn’t just that his academic dreams would be abruptly curtailed, although that would be a huge disappointment for him. He simply didn’t know how he was supposed to locate his Mom.  Naomi had emailed him a couple of times, knowing he had access to the university computers, but he couldn’t afford even the cheapest cell tab or comm band to call her.  And not only that, he wouldn’t know where to call anyway, as she had informed him she was moving on from Dallas as she and her latest beau had agreed to part company.  Being Naomi, she hadn’t mentioned whether it was amicably or acrimoniously, such concepts being of little or no importance to her.  She simply said that she hadn’t yet decided where to head next, but had several options to explore.

And the sad fact as far as Blair was concerned, was that this time he was truly amazed to realise that he wasn’t as upset about her news as he would have expected to be. Although he had been in Cascade for only a few months, he already thought of it as ‘his’ city.  The first place on the planet where he himself had chosen to put down roots rather than trailing around after his mother, or being left for sometimes months on end with unwilling ‘foster parents’ while Naomi sought true love and inner peace.

He decided therefore to try and go with the flow, and hopefully ride out the storm here for as long as he could, using every available minute to further his education for as long as the facility remained open for business. And when he could, he would continue to visit the shelter, because for sure times would get even harder for the foreseeable future.

\--------------------------------

**Some weeks later:**

Blair walked the relatively short distance to the shelter, head down and his customary bounce absent as he contemplated the last few weeks. Rainier had done its best to remain open and active, catering as best it could for the needs of its students rather than succumbing to the pressure of a demanding local government which was still in a state of flux.  Blair had done his utmost to take advantage of as much teaching as he could, worried that he, like all his fellow students, were on borrowed time, but when push came to shove, it was the students themselves who sealed the fate of the university.  Many had already left, either concerned for their own safety, or that of their families, particularly those students who lived in the southern states.  And they had reason to worry.

Ever since the secession, radical opposing factions within the student body had been butting heads, with isolated incidents of verbal aggression escalating into violent clashes both on and off campus.

Although Blair had managed thus far to avoid becoming embroiled in actual physical violence, he had become increasingly picked on by sick individuals who took exception to his person, snidely tormenting and teasing him for being young and attractive - and therefore undoubtedly a fag – and Jewish to boot. Add to that his superior intelligence and popularity with the teaching staff, and he immediately became a legitimate target for abuse in the eyes of a certain faction within the student body.

Despite the fact that Blair was well used to being an outsider within his peer group whatever the institution he happened to be in, this was far more worrying, as the antipathy seemed to be so deeply ingrained in so many individuals’ psyches such that he was beginning to actually fear for his safety.  With nowhere else to turn, he decided to confide in his friend Rosie, certain that her advice would be sensible even if unpalatable, and at least he was sure of her unconditional comfort and support.  He had ruefully reached the conclusion that Rosie was more of a mother-figure to him than Naomi had ever been.

As soon as he reached the shelter, although it was, as usual, a hive of furious activity, he immediately felt better, throwing himself into the fray wherever he was needed. Buoyed up by the hurried if genuinely appreciative greetings from Rosie and her staff, as well as the grins and shy smiles he received from his friends and acquaintances amongst the regular visitors, he gratefully shoved his depressing thoughts to the back of his mind and concentrated instead on doing his small part in a worthwhile cause for as long as he was needed.

Having been encouraged to stay the night by an equally exhausted Rosie, on account of his determination to put in as many hours as he could, he had gratefully accepted her offer of a cot and sleeping bag on her office floor.

The following morning, he was awakened with a cup of coffee and freshly made toast, for which he was truly appreciative. Making his way down to the kitchens after having a quick bathroom break and freshen up, he helped with serving the breakfast, then said his farewells, knowing that he had a couple of tutorials later in the day that he didn’t want to miss.

Little did he know that tutorials would be out of the question for him or for anyone else that day, and would remain so for a long time to come.

\-----------------------------------------

While Blair had been working at the shelter, a large number of students, mostly those leaning towards socialist, left-wing policies, had occupied the Political Science building, intending to stage a sit-in in protest about the rumoured closure of the university, and in support of the Northern Alliance. For the majority, it was intended to be a peaceful demonstration which grew progressively during the evening until several other buildings were taken over in the same way.  Unfortunately, as is often the case, the mood changed dramatically once opposition factions decided to join in to disrupt the gathering by holding a rally of their own.  Incited to violence by extremists from both sides, the situation soon turned ugly.  Aryan Brotherhood members taunted left-wing extremists, while anarchists gleefully joined in, not so much in support of any particular alliance, but glad to make the most of an opportunity to indulge in mindless violence against the ‘tree huggers’ and ethnic minority victims.   Also claiming that they were acting in support of the Second Amendment, they used the gathering to vent their resentment against the world in general.

Before long, fighting broke out, and cars were set alight in the parking lots. Windows were smashed, and equipment broken or stolen, while the over-stretched campus security guards tried valiantly to contain the worst of the violence.  Needless to say, the city’s Security Force was soon called in, and went in to quell what was now a full-scale riot, but not without difficulty, and casualties on both sides.

By the time Blair approached the campus, already frightened by the noise and smoke he had seen and heard while still at some distance from his destination, the campus was locked down, with no one allowed in or out. The majority of students who had simply been caught in the middle of the violence had been either contained in several large halls, or sent to their rooms if they lived on campus until such time as they could be processed and sent home.  The ringleaders, where they could be identified, were rounded up and taken to the Security Force’s holding cells to await charging and arraignment, while the many casualties were ferried to the city’s hospitals in a fleet of ambulances for treatment.

And, unfortunately, there were three fatalities amongst the students, all of which were caused by their fellow students rather than through the actions of the Security Force operatives, although of course the latter were the first to be accused of police brutality.

Fighting his way through the mass of onlookers gathered around the campus’ main entrance, Blair pushed his way to the front and nervously approached one of the Security Force officers who were controlling the crowd as best they could whilst guarding the hastily erected roadblock.

“Sir! Please, sir!” he gasped, waiting until the big man turned to face him.  He almost backed off when he met the irate, cold-eyed stare directed at him from a patrician face dominated by ice-blue eyes.  However, he desperately needed to know when he could get onto campus, because all his meagre possessions were in his dorm room, apart from the few basics he carried in his ever-present backpack.

“Sir, please can you tell me when I can go in? I need to get to my room, sir.”

“Where were you last night, kid? You look too young to be here anyway.  You have ID?” Although obviously fully occupied, at least the guy took a moment to speak to him, so Blair had to give him credit for that courtesy.

“Yes, sir,” he replied, pulling out his Student ID Card. “I was helping out at a homeless shelter last night, and didn’t know about all this until I arrived here.  I need to get to my dorm room--”

“No chance, kid,” the officer snapped. “The university is in lock-down, and it’ll be days before it’ll re-open its gates.  And I doubt it’ll be functioning again as a teaching establishment anytime in the near future.  You’d best go home, kid.  All the other students will be sent down as soon as possible.”

Blair wanted to argue – to rail at the man and explain that he hadn’t the means to go home, even if he knew where that was right now. But he realised it would get him nowhere but possibly into custody, and he so didn’t want that.  Depressed, he shot the officer a wounded glance, then turned away, shoulders hunched in defeat as he pushed back through the crowd again.  He would go back to the shelter.  Perhaps Rosie would let him stay and work there like before until he decided what to do?

He was unaware of the narrow-eyed gaze that followed his retreating back. Officer Ellison watched the kid go, a perplexed expression on his handsome face.  He was just another kid like so many others he’d had to deal with over the last few hours in one way or another.  But there was something about that one.  Something about the big blue eyes and the appealing gaze….

Shaking his head in irritation, he turned back to his duties, deliberately pushing his fanciful notions aside as he concentrated on more important things.

\------------------------------

**Several days later: New Dawn Shelter:**

Blair pushed impatiently at a loose curl that tickled his nose as he surveyed the kitchen, checking to see if everything was ship-shape and up to Mitch, the shelter’s cook’s exacting standards. He had just finished helping with the breakfast preparation and clean up, and the grin he sent Mitch was a little weary, although still cheerful.  The last of the overnight residents had just left to do whatever they needed to do to occupy them for the day, but he knew that most of them would be back again that evening, if not to secure a bed, which were still in woefully short supply due to the ever-increasing demand, then for a hot meal at least.  For now, Blair would have a short break and a cup of coffee with Mitch and the other helpers then tackle his assigned chores in the daily cleaning routine, preparing the shelter for the next intake of homeless and desperate people.

“OK, Chef? Is there anything else you need right now, or shall I put the coffee on?”

Mitch couldn’t help but return the youngster’s grin. He had grown fond of the kid, as had the rest of the staff, and, like Rosie, had welcomed him back to the shelter with open arms when he had been barred from returning to Rainier.  Although small and slender in appearance, the kid was stronger than he looked, his enthusiasm and determination belying any suggestion of fragility, and he worked as hard as anyone Mitch had ever encountered.  Add to that his ready smile and willingness to listen to and help anyone who asked him, and his popularity and place with them was assured for as long as he needed it.

“It’ll do, I guess, kiddo,” Mitch replied with a mock frown as he dried his hands on a kitchen towel. “Could be worse.  I think we can allow ourselves a break.  You can put the coffee on.”

“Coming right up, Chef!” chirped Blair cheekily, and moved to do just that, happy to help, and equally glad that he was treated so well by everyone at the shelter. He was more grateful than he could say that Rosie had accepted him back without so much as a second thought, and although he missed his studying, he was too busy to mope, throwing himself into his voluntary work with a will as the tide of displaced humanity continued to rise.

As he busied himself with preparing the coffee, he pondered on the other staff members, reflecting on how comfortable he felt with them all.

Although dependent on charity to keep going, the shelter had three full-time employees, two part-time cleaners, and several regular volunteer helpers who gave freely of their time. The numbers were also boosted by occasional helpers who came when they could spare a few hours here and there, and whose input was generally very welcome.  Of the three full-time employees, Rosie Wilkins was the general manager in charge overall, and the kind and caring woman treated Blair like the son she never had.  And as for Blair, he returned her affection, thinking of her as a second Mom and admiring her dedication to the shelter and everyone in it.

Mitch Wallender was a big man in every sense of the word. Around fifty years old now, he had learned his trade as a cook in the army, and once his enlistment ended he had taken over the catering side of a popular truck stop and diner near Seattle. He had heard of the shelter quite by chance when chatting to a friend of Rosie’s who had dropped in for a snack, and when he was told of the vacancy for a cook, he decided to check it out. Hitting it off with Rosie from the outset, he had settled in quickly and had been at New Dawn ever since.

The third full time employee was Hildegard Schwartz. In charge of housekeeping and domestic duties, she ran a tight ship, overseeing cleaning and routine maintenance with an eagle eye which ensured the highest standards possible.  In her late middle age, Hilda was a big-boned woman who reminded Blair of a Wagnerian Valkyrie, but he soon found that beneath the stern and exacting exterior beat a heart of pure gold.

All in all, Blair had to admit that he was more than fond of his adopted family, and was in no hurry to move on, enjoying the feeling of security they provided even in such troubled times.

Unfortunately, his new-found contentment was about to be destroyed as his life was forcibly changed once again.

\---------------------------------

Later that day the shelter was enjoying a short period of calm before the doors opened to admit the first rush of the homeless for the evening. With the cleaning done, the part-time staff had gone home, and Hilda was on an errand collecting donated bedding from a local store which was closing down.  Mitch was also out collecting produce, and the volunteer kitchen staff had yet to arrive, so the only ones present were Blair and Rosie.  Rosie was taking the opportunity to catch up on administrative work, so Blair volunteered to help.

They worked together amicably for an hour or so, when the buzzer sounded from the intercom on the locked front door. Frowning a little in exasperation, Rosie grinned wryly at Blair.

“I hope that’s not someone trying to get in early. All the regulars should know by now that I won’t open the doors before time.  Wouldn’t be fair, so they know better than to try.”  As she spoke, she reached for the handset on her desk.

“Rosie Wilkins. What can I do for you?”

The voice responding to her query sounded harsh, the accent Eastern European, and Blair’s empathy stirred uneasily. He didn’t know why, but he felt an instinctive distrust, although it wasn’t his place to refuse entry to someone on a feeling alone.

“I have a delivery for you, Ms Wilkins,” the voice replied. “Needs signing for, Ma’am.  It’s from ‘HumanAid’”.

Rosie frowned, her expression perplexed as she muttered to Blair, “That’s odd. They usually call me if they’re sending anything around.  Suppose I’ll have to go see what it is.”

Since ‘HumanAid’ was the primary charity by which the shelter was funded, she knew she had to check it out, even if it was irregular. However, she sent Blair a rather puzzled look when he murmured, “Be careful, Rosie.  I don’t know why, but I have a bad feeling about this.”

“OK, hon, if it’ll make you happy, we’ll both go, OK?” she offered, pushing herself to her feet. With Blair at her back, she exited her office and crossed the lobby to the front door, checking the image on the small, old-fashioned monitor on the unmanned reception desk.  Blair looked also, seeing nothing but a single man in the uniform of a well-known delivery company, hands in his pockets as he gazed unconcernedly around him.  Yet despite his unthreatening appearance, Blair’s inner alarm bells were still ringing.

On the other hand, although she was a little perturbed by Blair’s unease, Rosie could see no reason to ignore the delivery man any longer, so reached up and unbolted the heavy door.

And as soon as the locks were disengaged, the guy sprang into action, shoving the door wide open while reaching into his pocket to pull out a frighteningly large handgun. He was joined within seconds by two other armed men who had been hiding out of sight around the corner of the building, and as the door slammed shut behind them, they surrounded Rosie and Blair, giving neither of them any chance of reaching for the building’s silent alarm button located under the reception desktop.  They were herded back into the office, and Rosie was pushed down into her seat, the first man perching a hip nonchalantly on her desk as he covered her with the wicked-looking pistol.  The second man gripped Blair by the upper arm, pushing the barrel of his weapon into the tender skin beneath Blair’s jaw while the third man took up his position guarding the office door.

Despite her terror, Rosie tried not to give in to the panic that threatened to overtake her, her concern for Blair overriding her fears for her own safety.

“What do you want? We have nothing here of any value.  We don’t keep money here – only petty cash.  What do you want with us?”

Grinning nastily, the thug perched beside her reached forward and stroked the barrel of his gun almost caressingly against the skin of her cheek.

“Oh, you’d be surprised how much value we put on your shelter, Ms Wilkins. And we have a proposition for you that could be of great benefit to us both.  Allow me to explain…” and he smirked in grim satisfaction as Rosie nodded brusquely, inviting him to continue.

Desperately scared, Blair stared wide-eyed at the scene before him, trying not to piss his pants and holding himself as still as possible, not wanting to give the guy restraining him any reason to use the gun on him. It occurred to him fleetingly that the men must have planned this raid or whatever it was with care.  They were obviously well acquainted with the shelter’s daily routine, and must have been watching the place carefully so as to ascertain the most advantageous moment to make their move.

Barely daring to breathe, Blair waited to hear what the man had to say, already knowing that it most likely wouldn’t be anything good as far as he was concerned.

Smugly aware that he had his listeners’ full attention; the man appeared deceptively casual as he began.

“I represent people – powerful people - who have a lot of business interests in Cascade. Businesses you don’t need to know about, but involve a lot of time and money.”  He paused for effect, but it was obvious that both Blair and Rosie were well aware of the nature of such business, and it didn’t involve anything legitimate.

“As far as this shelter is concerned, all you will be expected to do is to continue to operate as normal. However, occasionally we have need to, shall we say, _relocate_ some of our people quickly and anonymously, and where better to hide them but amongst the homeless?  When your doors open for the night, our man – or woman - will give you a pre-arranged code word, and you will ensure they get a bed for the night, or more as necessary.  Simple as that.

“And in return for your cooperation, we will ensure your supplies continue to be delivered. Because we’re well aware that you have had to struggle a bit lately to get enough food in, am I right?”

He looked expectantly at Rosie, and she nodded reluctantly.  “Yes.  That’s true.  Mitch is out now trying to get some extra rations.  We know that our suppliers are stretched to the limit already.”

Nodding in faux sympathy, the man continued. “Well, you won’t have to worry yourself about that any more if you do as you’re told.  And not a word to the authorities, of course.  Otherwise who knows what might happen?  Perhaps a fire during the night when the place is full of innocents…?” and he grinned evilly at Blair and Rosie’s dual gasps of horror.

“So, I take it we have an agreement?” he continued, standing up and approaching Blair.

When Rosie failed to answer immediately, his face took on a cruel expression as he reached up and grabbed a handful of Blair’s curls in his free hand.

“Do you need another incentive, Ms Wilkins? I’m sure you’re fond of this little one, aren’t you?” and he glared over his shoulder at her, gratified to see her horrified look as she nodded frantically.

“In that case, you’ll want to keep him in one piece, won’t you? So, keep to our arrangement and tell no one else, even your fellow workers, and you’ll see him again.  Although he may look a little different the next time you see him,” and he chuckled unpleasantly.

“What will you do to him? Where are you taking him?” Rosie’s voice was panicked as she looked from Blair to her nemesis, eyes pleading and anxious.

“Oh, you don’t need to know _that_ , but he’s certainly a looker.  And if he’s bright enough, he may even be useful to us in other ways.

“And you can always tell your friends that he’s found a job, can’t you? Because that’ll be true, after a fashion,” and his sneer became lascivious as he stroked his thumb along Blair’s cheekbone, the fingers in his curls tightening enough to cause tears of pain to spring into the wide blue eyes.

Blair’s horror and repulsion at the man’s touch and words threatened to overwhelm him, but when his eyes sought Rosie’s, he found a strength within him that he would never had believed he possessed. Voice breaking, but his words resolute, he managed to stammer out, “It…It’s OK, Rosie.  I’ll be fine.  Do as they say, huh?  The shelter is important.  You…You need to keep it going.  I. I’ll see you again, OK?” but his voice failed him then, and his knees threatened to give way in sheer terror as the man holding him was forced to tighten his grip in order to keep his prisoner upright.

“That’s agreed then,” the spokesman said brightly, smugly satisfied as he turned back to face Rosie.

“Your first guest will arrive tonight, and if all goes well, this little one will be just fine.”

“How will I know?” Rosie demanded, her courage evident despite her dread.

“I’ll bring him to see you, my dear. Although he won’t be staying.  So, let’s get on with it shall we?”

And all Blair had time for was to exchange one last despairing look with his friend before he was hustled out of the office, and into his new life.

\------------------------------------

The following day at approximately the same time, Rosie received another ‘delivery’, and hurried outside on the pretext of checking the goods in the van. Peering into the dark interior, she saw her young friend huddled in the corner, his exit blocked by a large and fierce-looking thug who sat pressed up against him.  He was indeed still in one piece as the man she thought of as ‘The Spokesman’ had promised, but the boy she knew had changed irrevocably in the space of one night.  The light of happy optimism was gone from the big blue eyes, which now were dull and flat except for the flash of fear in the glance he shot at his minder when Rosie gently asked how he was.  Swallowing hard, Blair didn’t even try to speak, but managed to offer Rosie a tiny smile before breaking eye contact with her, and staring woodenly at the floor at his feet.  Heartbroken, Rosie could only watch as the thug grunted his approval at Blair’s reaction and gripped his thigh with a huge hand in a proprietorial gesture.

“Happy now?” the ‘Spokesman’ enquired with a sneer, pulling at the collar of his delivery man’s overall. “As long as you continue to do as you’re told, he’ll stay safe.  Well, relatively so,” he sniggered.  “At least he’ll be alive.  And we’ll let you two see each other on occasion when it suits us, just to reassure you.

“So, now you’ve seen him, we’ll be off. Just remember, keep this to yourself, be a good girl, and we’ll protect you and your shelter for a long as it’s useful to us.”

Patting her on the shoulder in a travesty of affection, he climbed into the cab of the van, sketching an ironic salute as the vehicle moved off, leaving her staring after it, trying valiantly to hold back tears of despair. She knew she would never ask Blair what he had gone through that night.  If he chose to confide in her at some point in the future, she would listen, and do her best to comfort him.

But she was no innocent to the ways of the world, and wasn’t short on imagination either, so she schooled herself fiercely not to dwell on it. Blair was alive, and that was what mattered.

\---------------------------------------

As time went by, Blair also tried not to brood on that night, deliberately repressing his memories with dogged determination as he concentrated on staying alive. Of course, that wasn’t to say that he wasn’t plagued by nightmares on many occasions, some of which forced him to relive the events that changed him so drastically, making him wake abruptly, sweating and shaking in remembered terror as tears of shame and old pain streamed down his face.  On those occasions he was forced to recall being stripped and intimidated, belittled and assaulted, and forced to suck cock for the first time in his life.  Although not actually raped, the abuse had gone on for hours while he was drilled in new behaviour patterns until he had passed out in exhaustion.

And then they woke him up and started again.

By the time Blair was taken to see Rosie the following day, he was in shock; broken like a wild mustang to accept his new life with the mafia. And if there was still a core of rebellious strength deep within him, he kept it well hidden; knowing that any act of deliberate mutiny would rebound on his friends at the shelter.

In the early days of his forced ‘apprenticeship’ it was assumed by most of the gang members in the local cell to which Blair was assigned that he would be forced to prostitute himself, turning tricks to earn his keep. He was ‘turned out’ accordingly; his body hair removed, but told to grow out his curls.  His left earlobe received two piercings, and his left nipple was also pierced at the whim of Solomon, the cell’s overlord, to whom he answered directly.

However, Blair was determined to try to persuade his masters to allow him to adopt another role – one which would leave him with a modicum of self-respect while not endangering those who depended on his cooperation. Consequently, he deliberately used his looks and his charm to win Solomon over, proving to be quick-thinking, agile and dextrous such that he soon became an accomplished thief, particularly valued for his lock-picking and breaking and entering abilities.   That wasn’t to say that he didn’t have to service Solomon when required, but the man only ever demanded his mouth, and Blair learned to perform with impressive results, all the while closing his mind to what he was doing, and thinking of the act simply in terms of a method of survival in a dangerous world.

As the years passed, Solomon grew to trust in his loyalty; at least insofar as he knew Blair would do nothing to risk hurting his friends at the shelter, and the pitiful people that depended on them. Consequently, he gradually allowed his pet thief more independence, often sending him out unaccompanied to accomplish set tasks, all of which he had managed to do successfully thus far.  Able to track his pet through the comm band on his wrist, Solomon had never had any cause for concern, and over the last months of Blair’s putative freedom he had sent the young man to the disused and dilapidated dockland area with instructions to make himself a hide and watch for any activity indicating that a rival cell was encroaching on their turf.  Rumour had it that an unaffiliated group had moved into the area looking to make a name for themselves.  Since such activity posed a real threat to Solomon’s standing in the Party establishment’s hierarchy, he commissioned Blair to report back immediately if he saw or heard anything suspicious, and steal whatever material evidence he could lay his hands on as proof of outside competition.  And then Solomon’s enforcers would move in to shut the interlopers down.  Permanently.

And that was exactly what Blair had been doing when he was captured.

\----------------------------------

**Part 3: The Devil You Know:**

**Present: Cascade Security Force HQ:**

Jim continued to stare down at the crown of his newly-imprinted guide’s head, completely at a loss as to how to proceed. He had felt such pleasure – such contentment – when he had completed the imprinting, but Sandburg couldn’t even bring himself to meet Jim’s eyes.  It was only a matter of time before they bonded fully, but how and when that would happen was anybody’s guess.  For sure, Sandburg wouldn’t be allowed to pull out at this stage, but Jim found to his surprise that he didn’t want to force him before he was ready.  And the gods only knew when that would be.

So, if rape wasn’t an option, Jim would just have to woo him and earn his cooperation if not his love.

And darned if that didn’t sound like a courting ritual.

Sighing in exasperation, Jim decided on another tack. Submitting his guide-to-be to a full sensory scan he realised that not only was the kid suffering from near exhaustion and some residual pain from his arrest, but he was also very hungry.  Noticeably underweight, Jim now recognised the faint sourness of the young man’s breath, indicating that it had been some considerable time since he last enjoyed a decent meal.  Deciding that this was a good enough place to start his campaign to win the guide’s trust, he moved around to squat in front of Blair, gently tipping the kid’s face up to meet his with a finger under his chin.

“Look, Chief, before we take this any further, you need to eat. And you also need to have a medical to make sure you’re in good health.  Hanging around the docks for the gods know how long isn’t conducive to healthy living.  What do you say?”

Although Blair had no intention of answering, his stomach decided to do it for him by gurgling loudly. Jim couldn’t help but chuckle at the sound, saying, “Well, I guess that answers that one, huh?  So.  What do you want to eat?  Shall I send for some soup to begin with?”

Blair’s first instinct was to tell him just what he could do with his offer, but in truth, now he actually thought about it, he was famished.

“Um, yeah. OK, I guess.  I could eat.”

“Great!” responded Jim, happy to have elicited some sort of response, even if it was a grudging one. Patting Blair approvingly on the shoulder, he was about to pick up the intercom to order in, when the door opened suddenly to admit Simon.  And he didn’t look happy.

As Jim automatically stood to attention, Simon nodded to him. “At ease, Ellison.  How are you getting along with him?” and he jerked his head towards Blair, mouth pursed in dislike.  He knew very well that the pair hadn’t bonded fully yet – the interview room was monitored after all – so he was taking the chance that Jim wouldn’t go into full BP mode when he heard Simon’s intentions.

Frowning, Jim replied a little brusquely, not liking his boss’ tone. He glanced quickly at Sandburg, and was irritated to see how the kid had huddled in on himself again, his heart rate increasing and the sour stench of fear once again tainting his scent.

“We’re OK, sir. Allow me to introduce Blair Sandburg, sir.  But I was just about to get Blair something to eat.  And a full medical before trying to go any further with the bonding process.”

“But you have imprinted him, haven’t you?” replied Simon impatiently, ignoring the attempted introduction and making it a statement rather than a question.

“So, before you get more deeply involved, I need to interview him. And I want to do it now so I can make my report.”

Well aware of Jim’s deepening frown of concern but driven by the demands of duty, Simon sat down opposite Blair and fixed him with a hard stare.

“OK, kid – Sandburg. This is what we know.  Acting on information received, we moved in on the dockland warehouse district to see if there was any truth in the rumour that there were some new players in town.  Players who were unaffiliated to the Party or the Party’s local cell.

“And surprise, surprise, that’s just what we found. And at least one of them has confessed to his role in the attempted turf takeover as well as the related criminal activities.  Are you with me so far?” he added sarcastically; sneering contemptuously as he sat back a little, waiting for Blair’s response.

It had to be said that Blair was horrified on several counts, and they didn’t all concern him and his own well-being. He already knew his goose was cooked when it came to his relationship with Solomon and his gang, although in all likelihood he would escape incarceration due to being claimed by Ellison.  And even though he was grimly aware that the latter act simply involved another sort of captivity, he didn’t want to dwell on the implications for now.  What was much more worrying was the apparent extent of the Security Force’s information regarding Solomon.  That sort of intelligence implied either a particularly industrious and canny informant or even a mole in deep cover within the cell itself.

And goddess! What if Solomon thought that he, Blair, was the informant?  Shit!  It didn’t bear thinking of!

Solomon had been right to fear for his personal credibility within the Party. If he had been successful in shutting down the opposition quickly and permanently, then he would probably have gotten away with it, maybe even earning himself a pat on the back.  But the fact that the Security cops got there first didn’t bode well for his continuing leadership.

It wasn’t that Blair cared about the man. He had suffered too much at Solomon’s hands for that, and a part of him couldn’t help but be glad at the possibility that the guy was going to get what was coming to him.  But it was a case of the devil you know.  At least Solomon had kept his word as far as the shelter was concerned, but if a new man took over, then he might decide that it wasn’t worth his while to continue the protection.  It only served as an occasional ‘safe house’ after all, and without Blair, it was no longer needed as the means to maintain the young thief’s loyalty.

And Blair couldn’t bear to think of what could happen to his friends if that protection was withdrawn.

However, despite his very real anxiety, he had no intention of making things easy for Banks. He was still resentful of the man’s handling of him when he was captured, and he didn’t like the guy’s overbearing attitude.  Taking a deep breath, he straightened his shoulders and met the man’s disdainful gaze.

“Well, since you know so much, what do you want from me? You obviously carried out your ‘mission’ successfully, what can I say?  Just in the wrong place at the wrong time, man.”

“Why, you little shit…” Simon stuttered, half rising from his seat. However, he sat back down again at Jim’s low growl, knowing that it wasn’t the best idea to threaten the guide physically in Jim’s presence.

“What I want from you, Sandburg, is what your role in this whole business was. I want to know everything you can tell us about Solomon Starshewski’s cell, and his standing with the Party.  I want to know enough to shut down not just his cell, but also to provide concrete evidence for the Party’s clandestine criminal activities on my patch.

“ _That’s_ what I want from you!  And you’re going to tell me,” he ended threateningly with a growl of his own.

Now Blair had learned all about resilience while he was under Solomon’s thumb – his survival had depended on it – so despite his fear of Banks, his obstinacy kicked in. He was guessing that Jim wouldn’t let his would-be guide be permanently damaged, so he wasn’t prepared to make it easy for either of them.  Flicking an assessing glance at Ellison before meeting Banks’ belligerent gaze, he shrugged nonchalantly even though he knew the sentinel would hear his thundering heart.

“Hey, man. Why should I waste my breath?  You’ll find out soon enough when _he_ gets in my head.  All you gotta do is wait a bit longer,” and with a wry grimace he deliberately broke eye contact and resumed staring at his hands which he had clasped on his lap, ostensibly relaxed, but actually tightly clenched in an effort to stop them shaking.

He felt a small frisson of grim satisfaction when he heard Jim’s sharp intake of breath behind him, but refused to look up to see how the sentinel was really reacting to his words.

“Whoa there, Chief! It’s not all one way, you know.  If I’m in your head, you’ll get to be in mine also.  That’s what the sentinel and guide thing is all about after all.  An equal partnership.”

“Oh, come on, man!” Blair burst out, really pissed off now. “Who are you trying to kid?  What’s equal about you and me, huh?  You cop, me prisoner.  And when you do decide to take me, what makes you think I’ll go poking about in your head?  I don’t have to see anything I don’t want to, especially if I’m not specifically invited. _That’s_ how it _should_ work!” 

Plainly taken aback, Jim was about to respond when Simon beat him to it. “OK, Jim, that’s enough.  I want to speak to you alone, so do what you need to to get rid of him for a while.  Feed him, or lock him up, I don’t care which, but get him out of my sight.”

And with a thin-lipped grimace, Jim nodded. “Sir, yes, sir!” he snapped.  Perhaps it wasn’t a bad idea to send Blair away for a few, because right now he felt almost as angry at the kid as his boss did.

Reaching for the intercom, Jim tried not to react to the sudden surge of fear he could detect in Sandburg’s scent and the accompanying galloping heat rate. He sent the guide a brief, appraising glance, then called up the medical centre to request an assistant to take Blair for a full health scan.  He requested that once the scan was completed, Blair be returned to the interview room, along with whatever information was immediately available.

Deliberately avoiding Blair’s slightly stricken look, he turned his attention instead to Simon, saying, “Once the check-up’s done, I’ll see that Sandburg is fed. Then, if it’s OK with you, sir, I’ll take him to my quarters.”

“Fine, whatever!” was the irritated response. “We’ll see how it goes.  But for now, get rid of him.  We need to talk!”

Shortly after, there was a discreet knock on the door, and one of the big medical assistants poked his head around the door. “Are you ready for me, sirs?” he enquired politely.

Receiving affirmative nods from both officers, he entered the room and gently grasped Blair’s upper arm, but as unthreateningly as he could under the circumstances. Even so, Blair’s heart rate raced even more despite his assumed stoic front, and Jim was well able to detect his inner turmoil and fear reflected in his physiological responses.

However, now was not the time for comfort.  He and Simon needed to settle some issues and lay down some ground rules if this bonding was to succeed.

\---------------------------------

Once Blair had left the room, Simon pulled out his personal pad, and started to input the scant information he had. Jim sat silent and more or less patiently while his boss worked, because in truth he also was interested in what the databases had on Sandburg’s identity.  After a few minutes, Simon looked up and met Jim’s inquisitive gaze, his own face twisted with exasperation.

“OK, Jim, this is what we have on your guide so far. Not that it’s much to go on, but it’s a start.

“Anyway, here goes. According to our database, your guide is just turned twenty one.  But by your expression I suspect you had already gathered that?  We’ve identified him through the routine DNA sample we collected when he was arrested.  We have no records of his past life except a birth certificate – filed belatedly in Carthage, MO.  Go figure,” he muttered, lips twisting in a wry grimace.  “Mother’s name is Naomi Sandburg.  Not much on her either.  Seems to have ducked under the radar at around fifteen years old?  No mention of a father, and apparently born overseas.  No fixed address over here either.  Just a whole lot of travelling.  But we do know that he had just started at Rainier when the secession happened.  And if that’s true, he must be some kind of child genius to have started that young, huh?

“Having said that, we have no idea what happened to him when the Uni closed its doors after a riot. Guess you’ll remember that, eh, Jim?  It was while you were serving your stint on patrol.  Anyhow, all we have is the fact that his DNA has now been identified and confirmed as being present at more than a few crime scenes over the past few years where significant thefts had been carried out.  And apparently it would seem that he has never even been close to being apprehended, so either he’s one hell of a thief, or he has serious contacts looking out for him.  Or both.

“What I’m trying to say, Jim, is that I can’t imagine a worse potential guide for you. He’s scum, Jim.  A good kid gone bad, even if through no fault of his own.  You know as well as I do what sort of people make up Solomon Starshewski’s little gang of cutthroats, so if he ever was an innocent, that’s long in the past.

“So, what are we going to do? Can you break this fledgling bond?   I mean, god knows I want you to be happy and able to use your gift to the full without pain, but seriously?  Bonding with a thief?  And let’s face it, Jim.  He’s probably had to sell himself more than a few times to keep in favour with that asshole Solomon.

“Do you really want to take on someone else’s leftovers, man?” And despite his instinctive bridling at Simon’s frank words, Jim still knew that his boss and friend only wanted what was best for him when all was said and done.  But his mind was made up, for better or for worse.  Blair called to him on the most fundamental level; appealing to the depths of Jim’s very soul.  So despite every obstacle likely to be thrown in their path, even the kid’s unpalatable recent past couldn’t alter that fact.  Simon undoubtedly wouldn’t like his reply, but it was a done deal as far as he was concerned. 

“I’m sorry, Simon. I know you won’t want to hear this, but I want to be up front with you.  You’ve always been a good friend as well as my commanding officer, and I know you only have my welfare at heart, but I’m going to have to disappoint you. I can’t break this bond even if I wanted to.  It’s already too late for that.

“And I have to be honest with you – I _don’t_ want to.  Yes, I know he’s hardly what I had envisaged when I dreamed of finding my true guide, but he really is compatible.  He completes me like no other guide I’ve ever met with before.  My senses feel great, and once we’ve completed the full bond, they’ll be amazing, I’m sure of it.  And he’ll be precious to me because of that, and because he will be the other half of my soul.

“I can’t tell you that it’ll be easy for either of us. He’s been badly hurt, and is deeply insecure and suspicious of me.  Of all of us in authority.  But as long as I am patient – which the gods only know will be damned hard for me as you can imagine – I think it’ll work out fine.  The good kid’s still in there, Simon.  He just needs to learn that I’m not the enemy here and that I’ll protect and cherish him.

“And if it doesn’t work, and you need my resignation, you’ll have it, sir. No hard feelings.”

While Jim had been speaking, Simon’s face had taken on a resigned expression, but at Jim’s final declaration, he sat up in real shock, shaking his head in denial.

“God, Jim! Don’t say that!  Surely it won’t come to that?  Look, I can’t say I’m truly convinced you know what you’re doing, but you obviously feel that you do, so let’s make a decision here.  As long as he’s passed as fit and well, you can take him back to your quarters, OK?  You’ll have to take full responsibility for him, and I trust you to complete the bond as soon as possible.  We’re so stretched that I can’t grant you more than the statutory three days’ bonding leave, more’s the pity, but if you think you can manage in that time, I’ll see you back here ready to resume duty on Monday morning.

“And you don’t know how much I’m hoping you can pull this off, my friend, because I tell you now, as far as I’m concerned it’ll be little short of a miracle….”

\--------------------------------------

After Simon had left the room, Jim paced around continuously, unable to sit still while he waited for his guide to be returned to him. In truth, it wasn’t so very long before he heard approaching footsteps, but it seemed like forever to the impatient man.  Throwing open the door even before the medical orderly could knock, he reached out to pull Blair inside, nodding his thanks at the other man as he accepted the info chip containing the doctor’s report.  Once the orderly had saluted and turned to leave, Jim closed the door behind him and submitted his guide to a thorough sensory scan of his own.

Holding Blair gently but firmly by the shoulders, he completed his examination, and stared at the crown of the young man’s obstinately down-bent head, face creased in concern.

“Look at me, Guide,” he commanded, knowing that the boy wouldn’t fight him on this for once. He was running on fumes, almost swaying with exhaustion, and when he slowly raised his face to meet Jim’s gaze, Jim was shocked at the dark smudges like bruises surrounding the dull blue eyes.

“Shit, Sandburg! You’re done in!” he muttered, not expecting or receiving a verbal response from his listener.

“OK, this is what we’ll do. I’m taking you to my billet here in the HQ building.  You’re way too tired to travel to my apartment across town, and you need to eat.  We can go to my place once you’ve had a decent night’s sleep, OK?”  He didn’t wait for any indication that Sandburg had heard, or much less agreed with him; he simply threw a supportive arm around the kid’s slim waist and urged him out of the interview room. 

Too tired to argue, Blair completed the short trip to the nearest elevators in a somnolent daze, his stumbling steps guided by the powerful arm around him. He looked neither right nor left during the rest of the journey to Jim’s private quarters, and in retrospect couldn’t recall any details of his surroundings.  However, as soon as Jim had activated the audio lock on his door, Blair’s survival instinct kicked in again, and his brain woke abruptly at the surge of adrenalin suddenly released when he realised where he was.

Having expected just such a reaction, Jim gripped Blair’s upper arms again, giving the smaller man a firm shake to attract and hold his attention.

“It’s OK, Chief. We’re in my quarters, and I’m not going to attack you where you stand, OK?  I want you to go sit at the table, and I’ll heat up some soup for you.  If you need the bathroom, it’s over there,” he added, nodding towards a door beside a queen sized bed across the room.

“You won’t be able to lock the door from inside, but I won’t bother you unless I hear something untoward, OK? And I _will_ hear you, kid.”  So saying, he gently turned the smaller man around and pushed him towards the bathroom, already knowing that Blair needed to go.  The pink-tinged ears told him that Blair was embarrassed at his knowledge, but he had no intention of letting up on his sensory scanning.  Not until he was sure that he could trust Blair not to either hurt himself or try to escape and that might be some time in coming.  Privacy was something his guide was going to have to earn.

Busying himself with heating up the chicken broth he had stored in his small refrigerator, his lips thinned in reluctant pity as he heard a soft sob, quickly stifled, from inside the bathroom.   However, once the commode flushed and running water and the air dryer indicated that Blair was done with his ablutions; Jim had the bowl of soup ready on the table, and beckoned to the young man as soon as he emerged.

“Come on, kiddo. Get this down you, then we can think about getting some sleep.  Tuck in!”

Blair would have liked to be able to tell Jim what he could do with his assumed heartiness and his bowl of soup, but common sense and an empty stomach kept him mum. Avoiding Jim’s gaze, he picked up the spoon and took an experimental mouthful, finding the soup to be delicious and just what he needed.  He set to with a will, concentrating on the flavour and the wonderful feeling of simply having something good inside him.

While he ate, Jim loaded the info chip into his personal reader, and read through the medical report, pleased to find that the initial results suggested that his guide had no serious illnesses or disease. However, when he reached the description of Blair’s likely sexual proclivity, he sat back, a frown of consternation on his handsome face.

Too concerned with enjoying his meal, it took the empath in Blair a while to kick in, but he soon realised that something had changed in his guardian’s demeanour, and he looked up, eyes filled with curiosity and concern.  Laying down his spoon with exaggerated care, he cleared his throat before murmuring worriedly, “What is it, man?  Is there something wrong with me?”

Raising his head to meet Blair’s troubled gaze, Jim was quick to reassure him. “No!  No, it’s not that, Chief.  Unless the last couple of blood test results come back with something unexpected in them, it seems that you’re much healthier than you look.  Just run down and malnourished.

“No,” he continued more slowly as his expression became speculative. “No, it’s not that.  It’s just that the doc reckons you’ve never had anal sex before, and I didn’t expect that….”

Exhausted beyond rationality, Blair had had enough. Shoving his chair back, he stood up, shaking with rage and hurt.  “You _didn’t expect that?_ You think that just because I’m a thief and one of Solomon’s ‘recruits’ that I was some sort of whore?

“Well, let me tell _you,_ Sentinel Lt Ellison, that I didn’t need to take it up the ass from Solomon. Or anyone else!  And you wanna know why?” he continued, voice now modulating to an insolent, _faux_ sexy purr.

Taken aback by the boy’s sudden outburst, Jim stared perplexedly at the furious younger man, a deep frown line between his brows as he nodded once, indicating that Blair continue. Suddenly relaxing and striking a deliberately provocative pose, Blair sashayed back to the table, fixing Jim with a hooded and sultry stare as his lovely face took on a pouting caricature of lust and invitation.

“I didn’t take it up the ass, Ellison, because I didn’t have to. I suck cock like a god, man, so Solomon was always satisfied, see?  And I bet I could make a _sentinel_ feel _really_ satisfied….

“Do you want me to show you…?” and he stepped right into Jim’s personal space before sinking slowly to his knees between Jim’s spread thighs. He could feel the emotions rolling off the sentinel.  A combination of lust, consternation and barely-controlled rage beat at him, but he realised that he wasn’t afraid.  If Ellison wanted to hit him, so what?  He was certain he’d had worse beatings for far lesser imaginary transgressions, so punishment wasn’t anything new for him.

And if the sentinel wanted to cast him aside, or even kill him, then Blair couldn’t find it in him to care anymore. He’d reached the end of his endurance, and just wanted to curl up and shut himself away from the world and all its pain.

Abruptly, it was all too much, and he was mortified to feel tears of shame and pain well up in his eyes before he quickly averted his gaze. Twisting around, he slumped back on his ass, pulling his knees up to his chest as he buried his face in the rough material of his jumpsuit-covered legs; his only wish to hide his distress from the man seated behind him.

The last thing he expected was for that man to sink carefully to the floor on his knees at Blair’s back, reaching around to enfold the shaking figure in powerful and comforting arms as he shushed softly.

Pulling the now unresisting body onto his lap once more, Jim felt his heart overflowing with love and pity for this guide; this damaged boy he so desperately wanted to help heal. Offering wordless sounds of comfort, Jim rocked the smaller man, now concentrating on sending nothing but thoughts of care and support to the empath.

True, he had been shocked and even outraged at the kid’s performance, but the honourable and understanding man in Jim had realised that it was simply an act of defiance. A desperate act brought on by impossibly deep hurt and shame; and Jim knew he had his own share of shame to bear.  After all, it was his thoughtless and unsympathetic attitude on reading the medical report that had instigated the whole episode, so it was up to him to try and make it right.

Blair deserved no less of him.

Marvelling once more at the way his senses flourished in contact with the guide, Jim relished the sweet smell of the younger man’s scent, realising that it was once more untainted by fear and pain.

And the reason for that was that Sandburg had finally given in to his exhaustion, and was now deeply asleep in his sentinel’s arms.

Jim grinned ruefully to himself and carefully climbed to his feet, still cradling the unconscious figure and holding him close to his chest, the curly head tucked against his shoulder. Blair felt surprisingly solid despite his slenderness, causing Jim to consider that well-fed and cared or, his guide would grow into a compact and sturdy young man.  And Jim couldn’t wait to start that process in train.  So where better to begin but by making sure that his guide was safe, protected and comfortable in his sentinel’s bed?

Carrying his precious burden over to the bed, Jim laid his guide down carefully, and began to strip off the coverall. Frowning, he studied the slender figure for long moments, taking in every detail he could of the smooth, naked form.  Many marks of abuse both old and new could easily be seen marring the satiny skin, causing Jim to grind his teeth together in impotent fury.  However, much as he would have loved to explore further, he ruthlessly controlled his curiosity, knowing that it would be unfair and irresponsible to take advantage of the slumbering young man.  With a rueful, self-deprecating grimace, he retrieved a clean pair of his own boxers and a large tee, carefully dressing Blair while thinking that not only would it provide his guide with some indication that Jim’s intentions towards him were at least reasonably honourable, but also might make him feel more comfortable when he woke, especially if he found himself in his sentinel’s bed.  With his sentinel’s arms around him.

Because that was what Jim intended to do – to hold his new guide close for as long as he could.

\-----------------------------------------

It was several hours before slight twitches and an increase in heart rate warned Jim that Blair was finally waking, and he tightened his hold minutely, making the most of the warmth and intimacy of the moment. He had thoroughly enjoyed being able to cuddle and comfort the guide, surprising himself with his own patience despite knowing that they had limited time in which to form a proper bond before he was recalled to work.  It wasn’t that he thought Simon would try to have Blair taken into custody; the captain knew enough about sentinel and guide affairs to realise that Jim would never allow that; but Jim couldn’t envisage going back on active duty alone when he was so close to bonding with his soul mate.  He was sure to be distracted whether intentionally or not, and that sort of distraction could lead to casualties as easily as could zoning in the middle of an operation.

No, he just had to do his best to win Blair over as quickly and sympathetically as he could and trust in his own instincts that the young guide was everything Jim thought he was, even beneath the veneer of self-protective cynicism.

As for Blair, waking was for once a surprisingly pleasant experience. Drowsy and warm, he basked in the comfort of a soft bed, and the protective and soothing embrace of the strong arms cradling him tenderly.  He rubbed his cheek lazily against his surprisingly firm pillow, jerking back to full consciousness when it occurred to him that it was a well-muscled chest beneath his head.  Shit!  He was being held by Ellison!  Goddess!  Had he bonded after all? 

Tensing suddenly in panic, he forced himself not to struggle, knowing that there was no escape from the big man anyway until Ellison – Jim – decided to release him. And there was no indication that the man intended to harm him.  Yet.

Not yet daring to raise his head, Blair took a couple of deep, fortifying breaths, trying to control his racing heart and employing his common sense and empathy to analyse the situation. First off, he realised immediately that Jim hadn’t tried to force a bond while Blair was virtually out for the count.  Yes, the primary link was still firmly in place, and strengthening gradually as expected, but he knew with absolute certainty that the sentinel hadn’t tried to take advantage of him.  In fact, he could tell that Jim had even dressed him in clean underwear before putting him to bed, and he was grateful for that small act of thoughtfulness and consideration.

But what was most surprising was how good it felt to be here, his inner guide almost purring in contentment to be cherished in such a way. He could detect no animosity, no underlying threat in Jim’s emotions.  Just love and care, pure and simple.

And if he willed it, this could be his for the rest of his life. And goddess, how he was tempted.  A forced bond was inevitable as a worst-case scenario, but what if Blair entered into it willingly?  He was certain that this level of comfort and affection was his for the asking.  But the small, warning voice inside him still called him to hold back; to protect his essential self at all costs, because this could be another trick.  A calculated effort by the sentinel to lull him into a false sense of security.  Without the full bond, he couldn’t be completely sure of what was going on in Ellison’s mind, and that thought in itself scared him enough to be cautious.

Suddenly, he knew he had to move. Jim had waited patiently while he had been processing during his return to wakefulness, and it was time to face up to his fears.  To the situation in which he found himself, and to try and make the most of it for both their sakes.  Because reluctant as he was to admit it, he discovered he cared enough about this man already not to want to upset him unnecessarily.  Ellison had been patience personified for the last few hours despite Blair’s recalcitrance, and deserved better than continued railing and ingratitude.  He could have forced himself on Blair at any moment, and Blair knew only too well how close the primal sentinel had been to doing just that, but yet he had held back.

Not that Blair entirely trusted him – he had had far too much negative experience for that over the past few years. Blair Sandburg was no naïve innocent anymore.  But he was prepared to play it by ear and listen to his own instincts which hadn’t let him down so far.  

With a deep sigh, he pushed himself up and raised his head to finally meet Jim’s gaze. And was almost undone there and then by the warmth and simple affection he saw looking back at him.

“Hey, sleepyhead. How’re you feeling?” Jim’s enquiry was gentle and sincere.

“Um, OK, I guess. Don’t think I’ve slept so long in years.  Thanks for that, man.”  Blair’s response was quiet but lacking in his usual attitude, and Jim’s smile widened at hearing it.  Perhaps his ‘softly, softly’ approach might continue to bear fruit after all.

“No problem, kiddo. You were out for the count, for sure.  There was no way I wanted to drag you across town last night just to get back to the apartment.  But now you’re awake, how about freshening up a bit and I’ll make some coffee and toast.  I ordered in a clean coverall for you before coming to bed, and you’ll find it in the bathroom.

“Once we’ve had a bite to eat, we’ll go to my loft. I want you to see where I live, and get a bit more relaxed if possible before we progress this – this – relationship,” he added with a quirky half-grin.  He knew that it was too much to hope for that Blair should calmly accede to his wishes without complaint, but he didn’t want to continue their bonding in his quarters.  It was routinely monitored for security reasons after all, and he didn’t expect Blair to open up to him under the circumstances.  He knew his colleagues weren’t into unnecessary voyeurism, but he had no desire to provide them with the spectacle of a bonding ritual either.

No, he’d get the guide into his own territory, and continue from there.

He was gratified therefore when, despite a momentary flash of a mutinous frown crossing his face, Blair ducked his head and nodded, having decided that he would be better served by cooperating for now. He would make his opinions known when it could do him some good.

“Great. Up you get then, Chief, and I’ll get the coffee on,” and Jim gently swatted Blair’s butt as the young man climbed off the bed, controlling his chuckle only with difficulty at the offended glare sent his way.

\-------------------------------------------

**Shortly after, Jim’s apartment at 852 Prospect:**

Swiftly de-activating his state-of-the-art security system, Jim used his voice-recognition programme to open the door to #307. Placing a warm hand against the small of Sandburg’s back, he encouraged the smaller man to enter, murmuring amiably, “Here we are, then, Chief.  ‘Mi casa, su casa’, as they say.  Take a load off for a few while I check the contents of the kitchen cupboards, then I’ll give you the grand tour, OK?” and he gave his guide a gentle push towards the sofa in the great room.

Flicking Jim a quick glance, Blair nodded wordlessly and moved across the room as he was bid, all the time concentrating on his surroundings, and trying to assimilate everything that had happened since they left the Security Force HQ.

In truth, it had been a lot to take in, and he was feeling pretty unsettled, his emotions all over the place as he tried to come to terms with his new situation knowing that it was going to get even more fraught before it got better. If indeed it ever did.

Back in his on-duty billet, Jim had been as good as his word preparing coffee and toast while Blair luxuriated again in a hot shower. He had been encouraged to inhale at least two cups of the best coffee he had had in years, before Jim did a quick clean up and made ready to leave for his apartment.  He hadn’t so much as glanced at the restraints, lying discarded on the table by the door.  Apparently he had no intention of putting them back on Blair, even though his guide was alleged to be a wanted thief.

Sure, Blair would have to be either stupid or desperate to try to escape inside the HQ, but the casual dismissal spoke volumes about how Jim felt about him, and Blair had been unexpectedly touched by the sentinel’s thoughtfulness and implied trust.

He was even more bemused to see Jim’s personal vehicle. Once they had descended to the parking level, Jim had made his way over to an ancient truck, probably one of the last remaining road-worthy vehicles powered by an internal combustion engine.  Blair couldn’t help but snigger internally at what he was sure his throwback hippy Mom would say about it.  She would surely have a cow at the pollution generated by such a vehicle, and would certainly not have been placated by Jim’s slightly smug declaration that the truck was a true classic.

But right now it was time to concentrate on this apartment. Jim’s home.  Which was now his home.  Or would be as soon as the bond was fixed.  And Blair really didn’t know how he felt about that.

Jim’s home was a loft apartment on the third floor of a converted warehouse. Mostly open-plan, it was light and airy, and from where he was seated, Blair could just make out a part of an impressive view of the marina from the balcony windows.  It was well furnished, and had a well-appointed kitchen off the main room, where Jim was presently bustling about checking his cupboards and refrigerator.  A staircase against one wall led to a mezzanine floor which appeared to be the main bedroom, and a short hallway led to what Blair assumed would be the bathroom.  All in all, it was comfortable and clearly spotlessly clean, but not ‘homey’ at all.  Almost clinically sterile, there were no personal touches or knickknacks to reveal Jim’s character, and Blair could only assume that the sentinel eschewed anything that could distract him or offend his senses.  Blair absently began to consider what he would add to the place to make it more welcoming, only to cease abruptly when he realised what he was doing.  Goddess!  He was already thinking of it as his home.  As if the bond was already a done deal.

Then again, it was pretty much inevitable, he thought wryly, with more than a touch of resignation. So yeah, why not try and make it a bit more cosy?  Unless, of course, Ellison was so anal that he intended to keep Blair firmly in his place.  Blair was perfectly well aware that he wasn’t Ellison’s ideal choice of guide.  He was a thief, after all, not a trained and willing candidate, so he couldn’t in all honesty expect to be treated with the same equality or respect his position demanded.  Unsurprisingly, his train of thought returned to the consequences of his arrest, and how it could rebound on his friends at the shelter.  Cringing internally, he was too preoccupied to hear Jim’s approach, and jumped noticeably when a large hand gripped his shoulder.

“Hey, kiddo, penny for them?” Jim’s question was gentle, his voice soft and concerned.  He had been monitoring his guest continuously while checking his kitchen, deliberately taking longer than necessary to give the young man a little time to himself.  However, he had immediately noted when Sandburg’s scent became tainted by the sourness of distress, and his accelerating heart rate spoke of troublesome thoughts.  He was hardly surprised when Blair instantly withdrew into himself, but this time Jim wasn’t going to let him get away with it.  It was time they talked, and Jim was determined to get his reluctant guide to open up to him.  He needed to complete the bond, but he wanted to hear Blair’s story in his own words, not piece it together from what he could pull from his guide’s mind at a later date.

Moving around the sofa, he crouched down in front of the hunched figure, reaching out to grip one of the kid’s wrists in a firm but gentle grasp, and using his other hand to encourage the down-bent head to lift, his concerned gaze scanning the guide’s woebegone features.

“Come on, Chief. It’s time to talk.  It doesn’t take a sentinel to tell you’re worried and unhappy, and I think it goes far deeper than your fear of bonding with me, though the gods know you’ve got to be worried about that.

“I don’t blame you, kiddo, and for what it’s worth, I’m sorry it’s come to this, for your sake. But I’d be lying if I said I was unhappy with the situation.  But having said that, I want to know you, Blair.  And I’d like for you to talk to me freely.  I can’t expect instant undying love, but I ask you to trust me.  Trust me to make the effort to understand where you’re coming from.  I’m not perfect, and my colleagues would tell you I’m a hard-assed bastard at times, but I truly don’t want to hurt you, Chief.

“So, before we go into your life history, can you at least tell me why you refused to tell Simon anything about Starshewski’s gang? I mean, surely you don’t have feelings for him?  Or do you?”

“No! No, I don’t!” came the immediate and vehement response.  Blair’s eyes flashed with sudden fervour, all pretence at sulky disinterest banished as his gaze sought and latched onto Jim’s.  For long moments, he stared beseechingly at the sentinel’s perplexed features, willing the man to understand without his having to resort to verbal explanations, but without the full bond it couldn’t happen.

Shoulders slumping in defeat, Blair sighed deeply as his eyes fell again, to stare at the floor beneath his feet.

Instinctively knowing that a turning point had been reached, Jim stood up without releasing his guide’s wrist, and sat beside him on the sofa, hitching around so he could see the young man’s profile.

“Look at me, Blair. Tell me…” he commanded gently.  And Blair knew he had to comply.  Lifting his head briefly, he shot Jim a rueful glance, then whispered almost sentinel-soft, “You wouldn’t understand, man.  It’s not what you think.”

“Then explain it to me, Blair. Tell me why you’re still protecting that scumbag?” so Blair did.  Haltingly at first, then gradually gathering momentum, he told Jim about the shelter and how he was forced to remain obedient to the cell if his friends weren’t to suffer.  How he was forced to work for Solomon, and how he had no choice but to service the man when it was demanded of him.

And he also confessed his fears that Solomon would assume that Blair had betrayed him at last, and how frightened he was that the worst would come to pass, and the shelter was doomed.

As he listened to his guide’s sorrowful tale, Jim was struck by several emotions. Anger, for sure, at what Solomon and his thugs had forced Blair to do; to become in order to protect his friends.  And pity also.  Jim had been in law enforcement long enough now to have experienced many such examples of humanity’s capability for cruelty.  But there was also pride.  Pride in Blair’s resilience and determination to make the most of the harsh hand life had dealt him, his very actions proof as far as Jim was concerned that the young man was still honourable, still loyal to his friends despite his forced life of crime.

And Jim was determined to take on the challenge. To bond with and cherish this guide whether the guide wanted it or not.  For now he didn’t care what obstacles would inevitably be thrown in their path.  Blair was his, and he would protect him with his life.   

Gently reaching out with both hands, he carefully cupped Blair’s face, and urged him to turn towards him. Softly wiping away the few stray tears leaking from the wide and sorrowful blue eyes, Jim stroked the delicate skin beneath the beautiful orbs with his thumbs, holding the kid’s gaze as he sought the right words.

“It’ll be OK, Blair. I don’t know how yet, but we’ll make sure your friends are OK.  And Starshewski and his cell are going down for sure, even if it’s only a tiny victory in the fight against the Party.

“And I promise to keep you safe, Blair. As my guide you’re entitled to my protection.  And in time, maybe you can learn to at least like me,” he added, a wry grin lifting the corners of his mouth as his eyes twinkled in gentle humour.

“What do you say?”

And Blair suddenly knew what he needed to do. He couldn’t fight against it anymore; couldn’t hold off from bonding with this man.  He was so tired, so lonely.  Exhausted from living on his wits for so long, he craved comfort and support, and the touch of someone who truly cared about him.  Raising shy eyes to meet Jim’s warm gaze, he swallowed hard, then whispered, “I’m ready, Sentinel.  I trust you.  Make me yours…”

Almost overwhelmed by the guide’s words, Jim regarded him seriously for a moment before lowering his face to kiss the wide brow almost reverently. “Thank you, Blair.  Thank you for the gift of your trust.  Come with me now, and let me love you…” and he stood, taking Blair’s hand to lead him up the stairs to his bed, eager now to complete the bond, but with no intention of scaring this beautiful boy. _His_ beautiful boy from now on.

Once up in his - now their – bedroom, Jim wasted no time in carefully undressing Blair, mindful of controlling his emotions as he did so, not wanting to upset the empath. As Blair’s smooth-skinned body was revealed once again, albeit this time with Blair’s knowledge and acquiescence, Jim was both thrilled and horrified at this second viewing.  True, the slender body was beautiful in shape and proportion, the hairless skin soft and satiny to his touch.  But if Blair was a virgin to anal sex, Jim knew he was well acquainted with physical abuse nonetheless, his body bearing even more evidence of scars and imperfections now Jim could look his fill.  Jim realised that he had to make this bonding and lovemaking special, hoping to wipe out memories of past assaults.  He guessed, quite rightly, that Blair may have enjoyed loving touches and cuddles in his early life; the type of platonic embrace bestowed upon him by his mother, and more recently, by Rosie Wilkins.  But all his sexual encounters had been of the physical, demanding kind, such demands being initiated purely by his lustful abusers with no concern for Blair’s feelings or desires.  A means of obtaining free sexual gratification, pure and simple.

Jim determined that he was going to do his utmost to put things right, and that meant taking his time pleasuring the young man, and endeavouring not to scare him. Smiling softly, he encouraged Blair to lie back on the big bed, and quickly stripped himself, but once undressed, he approached the bed unthreateningly, easing down beside Blair rather than throwing himself on the enticing body as his inner sentinel desired.  Leaning up on one elbow, he smiled down into Blair’s wide and somewhat anxious eyes, raising his free hand to gently card the silky curls now spread loosely over the pillows.

“So beautiful,” he breathed, delight and adoration plain in his own eyes. “Let me learn you, Blair.  Let me find out what you like…”  And Blair nodded, nervous for certain, but allowing himself to trust in Jim this once, his empathy telling him that the big man was honourable and his intentions towards Blair were honest.

During the ensuing period, although Blair would never know whether it lasted for minutes or hours, he was treated to an intimate inspection sentinel-style, where not an inch of his body was left unexamined and imprinted. Jim took his time inspecting and learning his guide, paying particular attention to discovering every erogenous zone and pleasure point until Blair was a writhing puddle of desire and lust.  Far from being impatient, Jim found the exercise gratifying in the extreme as he slowly brought his new lover to the peak of need, proud of his ability to coax and tease Blair until the young man was wordlessly begging for release.  By the time he had carefully prepared Blair for penetration for the first time, Blair was almost desperate, the initial pressure and pain soon eased as Jim continued to stroke and caress him, breathing in his sighs and moans of pleasure as he sampled the lush mouth.  By the time he had stroked Blair’s prostate for the first time, and witnessed his guide’s wide-eyed gasp of astonishment, he knew they were close, so he angled his stroke to massage the little pleasure-point again and again until Blair came explosively, triggering Jim’s own orgasm.

And at that moment, they shared the most amazing feeling of mutual rapture and enlightenment as their souls merged for the first time, and they joined as sentinel and guide for evermore until death and most likely even beyond.

\-----------------------------------------

**Part 4: One step forward, two back:**

**Later that evening, Jim’s apartment:**

Blair stretched languidly as he rose to wakefulness in lazy increments, revelling in the comfort of the warm nest in which he found himself, and feeling calmer, more secure and cared-for than he could ever recall. He certainly had some discomfort – twinges and aches in places he’d never used before - but it was an acceptable discomfort, the reasons behind it causing him to smile smugly as he peeled his eyes open.  To see a smiling Jim perched beside him on the big bed, holding a mug of fragrant coffee and dressed in nothing but a ratty robe.

“Hey, man. That for me?” he murmured, then blushed, suddenly shy as he replayed their bonding and lovemaking.  He pushed himself into a sitting position with a slight wince, surprised when a large hand reached out to gently push his dishevelled locks behind his ear as Jim chuckled affectionately.

“Sure is, baby. How are you feeling, sweetheart?  I know you’ll be pretty uncomfortable, but a hot shower should take care of that for you.  And it’ll get easier, I promise.  And much, much better!”

Grinning wryly, Blair replied, “Much better, huh? Wow.  I’m not sure I’ll survive then.  But what a way to go…” then ducked his head quickly, astounded at his presumption.  If he had spoken to Solomon like that, he would have been backhanded at the very least.

“Hey, none of that, now,” Jim remonstrated quietly, expression momentarily one of concern. “I can’t promise I’ll never get mad at you, babe, but I’ll never hit you.  Read me, kiddo.  You can tell I’m mean what I say.”

Raising his eyes to meet Jim’s frank gaze, Blair did as he was bid – albeit slightly tentatively – and found that yes, the mental link was indeed established, and he could read Jim with ease, far more so than he’d ever have believed he would be capable of using his considerable empathic gift. He grinned with a little more confidence as he also realised that, despite the bond, both men had refrained from forcing their way into each other’s mind uninvited; both content to share what was comfortable, and not probing darker secrets just because they could.  Blair’s grin widened in appreciation, grateful for Jim’s consideration, as he had assumed the powerful sentinel would have ridden rough-shod over Blair’s feelings and protestations and dragged every bit of information possible out of his new guide’s mind.

Knowing what his guide was thinking, Jim simply returned his grin with a slightly self-deprecating one of his own. “Yeah, I know, baby.  But I took your words to heart, kiddo, and you were right.  It’s not fair that I delve into your head as if I had some sort of divine right.  This should be an equal partnership, and that means not forcing ourselves on each other unnecessarily.

“There will be times when I shall be more aggressive, baby. I give you fair warning,” he added seriously, “But it’ll be because I have good reason.  Like if our safety, or the safety of our friends is at stake.  Otherwise, I won’t go where I’m not invited OK?”

And Blair was more than OK with that, and his smile told Jim so. “I appreciate it, man.  Truly.  And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry, Jim,” he continued, pinking a little in embarrassment.  “I was really rude to you back there, man.  But I thought you were just another big, macho man who wanted to get a piece of me whether I wanted it or not.  I was scared, I admit.  And that Captain Banks!  Man, now he’s really scary.  I thought he was going to kill me back at the warehouse,” and Jim frowned at the barely-controlled fear that edged into Blair’s eyes and voice as a brief shudder rattled the slender frame.

“It’s OK, babe, I understand,” he responded, rubbing Blair’s shoulder consolingly. “The circumstances were hardly conducive to a polite first meeting, and I admit I was barely in control of the primal sentinel.  It was just that, after way too long, I finally found my true guide, and had him in my grasp, and I was desperate to complete the bond.

“But you made me stop. Made me hold back from forcing you, and although it was damned hard, I freely admit, I’m glad you did.  The last thing either of us needed was a bond created in fear and aggression.

“Anyhow, how about you finish your coffee and go take a hot shower, and I’ll go fix us something to eat, huh? We’ve got plenty to talk about, and I know you’ll have a ton of questions for me.  There’s a spare robe here, so when you’re ready, huh?”

Blair smiled widely in response. “Thanks, Jim.  I’ll be as quick as I can, OK?” and he reached for the mug of coffee, grinning cheekily over the brim as he raised it to his lips, chuckling as Jim aimed a fake swat at his curls.

“Brat! I can see I’m going to have my work cut out with you!” the sentinel grumped unconvincingly as he descended the stairs, inwardly cheering at how much progress had been made already, and looking forward to bringing his guide up to speed with the information he’d already shared with Simon when he contacted his boss while Blair slept.

\--------------------------

Jim was just putting the finishing touches to the meal of reheated home-made lasagne when Blair emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in Jim’s oversize spare robe. He made an endearing picture, like a small child trying on his father’s clothes, and Jim was charmed at the sight.  Beckoning his guide over to join him, his smile was far from mocking as he appreciated the view, a growing warmth deep within him as he realised yet again that this delicious morsel was his, and willingly so.

“Come and make yourself comfortable, Chief. Hope you like pasta, and what do you want to drink with it?  I guess you’re just about old enough, so would you like a glass of wine?  I feel as if we ought to celebrate.”

“Oh, man! That smells great!  And yes, I could drink a glass of wine.  Thanks, Jim.”  Blair smiled happily up at the bigger man, basking in the affection in the ice-blue eyes.  He would never have believed he could ever feel this way about another man after his past experiences, but it was true.  He was already falling in love with the sentinel, and not just because they were bonded, he was certain.  Then again, a Greek god like Jim would probably never have even looked at him if he wasn’t a guide, but he shoved that thought aside before it could dampen his mood.

Shortly after, both men having eaten their fill, Blair helped Jim with the clean-up, then they both settled side by side on the sofa, sipping another glass of wine while they relaxed in each other’s proximity. Throwing an arm around Blair’s shoulders, Jim pulled his guide snugly into his side, regarding the curly head tucked against his chest for a few moments before asking, “You know, babe, I couldn’t help but notice that you’ve had a few piercings done.  I don’t want to upset you by being nosy, but how come you don’t wear any jewellery?”

For a moment he thought he’d managed to hurt his guide after all, but then Blair pushed himself away just enough so he could meet Jim’s speculative gaze.

“It’s OK, Jim. I’m not upset.  I mean, I didn’t get them done by choice, but I’m cool with them now.  Having said that, my ear and nipple rings are probably still hidden in the warehouse where you found me.  I had to wear them for Solomon, because he liked them.  A symbol of ownership, I guess, so I’m not sorry they’re gone.  But when I was working,” and here he blushed in embarrassment at the reference to his career as a thief, “I had to take them out.  Metal detectors, you know?   I mean, the comm band had a cloaking function as you’d expect, but I couldn’t risk security systems picking up trace from my jewellery.”

“S’OK, babe. I thought it must be something like that. But if you choose to wear stuff again, just wanted you to know that I don’t mind.  Except when we’re on duty, that is.  For the same reasons!

“Anyhow, I wanted to tell you about what’s happening about the shelter,” and he wasn’t surprised at Blair’s sudden upsurge in interest, abruptly alert and peering inquisitively and not a little anxiously up into Jim’s face.

“While you were napping, I called Simon. He wanted a progress report anyway, and I explained about the shelter.  Anyhow, according to the latest word on the street, he told me that Solomon has gone to ground, and it appears that what we suspected is true.  The Party aren’t too pleased with his performance, and have promoted one of his henchmen to head up the cell, at least as a temporary measure.  The guy’s name is Marcus Kozinski…” and he paused at Blair’s sudden gasp of horror, frowning at the guide’s pallor as the blood drained from his face in shock.

“I’m guessing you’re well acquainted with him, huh?” he continued sympathetically, as Blair nodded wordlessly, his eyes beseeching as he struggled with his reactions. After a moment, he sighed gustily and replied, voice low-toned and distressed.

“Yeah, man. I’m ‘acquainted’ with him alright.  He’s a prize asshole, Jim.  Solomon’s second in command.  And can we say his intentions towards me were never honourable.  It’s true that Solomon usually kept me to himself, but I did have to, um, _be accommodating_ to Kozinski a couple times.  And he let it be known that if he ever got the opportunity; he’d fuck me silly then put me on the street.  Said I could earn a lot more on my back than as a thief.  Or do both.  Multi-talented, see?” and he huffed in humourless laughter.

“Thing is, man, he has no reason to continue protecting Rosie and the shelter. He’s a vindictive bastard so he’ll probably try to make an example of them even, especially if he thinks I betrayed the cell.  Oh, man!  What have I done..?”

Tightening his arm around the now shaking shoulders, Jim tried to comfort his guide, hoping he could live up to the claims he was about to make.

“It’s OK, Chief. Look, I know how much this means to you, and to me also because of our bond.  I can’t promise individual protection for New Dawn, or Rosie and her colleagues; the Force is too thinly-stretched for that; but Simon has said that he’ll make sure that extra units will patrol the area now he knows what the threat is.  And we’re closing in on the cell, Chief.  With Solomon gone, they’re on the run, especially as they’re out of favour with the Party.  I don’t think it’ll be long before we see them shut down even if another all-new bunch of ‘loyalists’ is set up in their place.”

“I hope you’re right, Jim. I couldn’t live with myself if I thought I was responsible for anything happening to Rosie and the others.  Without them and their kindness, I don’t know what would have happened to me after Rainier closed its doors.  I never did manage to trace Naomi.  After the secession, she disappeared.  Probably to some self-sufficient off-the-map commune in New Mexico or some such.  Guess I’ll never know…” and he tailed off sadly.  He didn’t think of his Mom often – had trained himself not to because the sense of loss was too painful – but now the impact of their long separation came crashing back full-force.  However, Jim was immediately aware of the young man’s grief, and was there to offer the kind of support and comfort Blair needed, and offer it freely.  Pulling Blair up and onto his lap, he tucked the curly head into his neck, rubbing the shaking back in soothing circles as he encouraged his guide to let go.

“It’s OK, babe. I understand, and if there’s anything I can do to find your Mom, I’ll do it.  And in the meantime, we’ll both concentrate on doing our bit to wind up the cell – and sock it to the Party also if we can.  We’ll just take it one step at a time, sweetheart, but we’ll get there…”

And as he said the words, he mentally crossed his fingers that he was telling the truth.

\----------------------------------------------

**Monday morning, Security Force HQ:**

Pulling into the parking garage below the HQ building, Jim glanced over at the silent figure seated next to him, a slight frown of concern on his face. Blair had spoken barely a word since they had left the apartment, and had been quiet and introspective during the drive.  He was well aware that this was going to be hard on the kid; reintroduced to Simon Banks and his team as Jim’s bonded guide after being arrested on suspicion of working with the Party’s local cell; but he had faith in the young man’s resilience and integrity.  And as if reading Jim’s mind – which he probably had – Blair turned his face towards his sentinel, a grin of wry reassurance lifting the corners of his generous lips.

“It’s OK, Jim. I can handle it.  As long as you’re with me….”  His assumed confidence slipped a little on the latter statement, but Jim was still awed by his guide’s courage.  And felt humbled by the trust that he could feel through their shared link.

Then again, he supposed he oughtn’t to be surprised, having learned first-hand over the last couple of days just how tough Sandburg actually was. Had needed to be in order to survive as well as he had thus far.  Although somewhat jumpy and wary in his dealings with Jim, self-preservation learned the hard way obviously dictating his thoughts and actions, he was far from submissive.  Indeed he had frequently pushed the boundaries of acceptable behaviour as far as he could, testing the waters to see just how much he could get away with without provoking his sentinel’s retaliation.  It was almost as if despite the evidence of their mental bond he just had to find out if Jim really did mean what he said when he had declared that he would never get physical with Blair.  And Jim was ruefully aware that on at least two occasions he had been sorely tempted to spank the kid’s backside, although he had refrained, simply because he knew what Blair was doing.  And why.  Finding himself once again in a new situation over which he had initially had very little say or control, Blair had to re-establish his position and come to terms with his new life, and that wasn’t something that would happen instantly despite the strength and encouragement provided by their bond.

On the other hand, Jim was both pleased and relieved to discover that his guide’s essential core remained intact, just as he had assured Simon. Although often camouflaged by the cocky and street-wise exterior persona, at heart Blair was a compassionate, gentle young man; highly intelligent and perceptive; still capable of finding pleasure in simple acts of kindness and appreciative of other’s needs.  It was that compassion that compelled him to keep working for Solomon _et al_ , his love for Rosie and his desire to protect the shelter and its occupants overriding his own needs.

And now he had extended that gift for caring to encompass his sentinel, already committed to learning how to be the best guide he could even if it hadn’t initially been his own choice. How could Jim not love him for that?

Reaching over to squeeze Blair’s knee comfortingly, Jim smiled back, his voice warm as he replied. “I know, Chief.  You’ll be fine, and I’m betting you’ll soon win them over.  And you can bet I’ll be with you, kiddo.  All the way.  Now, let’s get this show on the road, then perhaps we can get to work,” and he opened the driver’s door, moving around the vehicle to let his passenger out.  Throwing an arm around Blair’s shoulders, they made their way to the elevator, Jim concentrating on sending his guide nothing but thoughts of reassurance, support and love.

As far as Blair was concerned, he was well aware that, given the choice, he would be running back to the car, and it was only Jim’s physical support and confidence in him that was holding him together. Superficially he looked pretty cool and calm, but it was an act perfected over the last few years, and he knew for sure that the sentinel would be able to detect his racing heart and nervous sweat.  Nevertheless, he had given Jim his word, and he had to believe in the security of the bond, because if ultimately it turned out to be a lie, he was lost, and that possibility didn’t bear thinking of.

Leaning into Jim’s side and soaking up the offered support, Blair was also considering the last couple of days, admitting to himself with a pang of shame that he had behaved like a brat on several occasions, even though Jim hadn’t deserved his attitude. He knew it wasn’t fair, but couldn’t seem to prevent himself from reacting that way.  Although he instinctively knew that Jim meant him no harm, the wary, cynical little voice within that had protected him on many occasions during the last uncertain and perilous years kept nagging at him, provoking him to test the real limits of Jim’s patience so that he would know when to make himself scarce.   And to his amazement, despite his uber-macho-cop image, Jim was actually far more tolerant than Blair would have believed possible, and for that he couldn’t help but be mightily relieved.  For sure, the man was no saint.  He had a temper, and an acerbic tongue when pushed, but he had kept his word and had never laid a hand on Blair in physical punishment.  And their make-up lovemaking and bonding was incredible.  Perhaps this sentinel and guide gig would actually work for them both after all.

But first he had to face up to Captain Banks and find out exactly where he stood within Jim’s department, and that was something he was really not looking forward to at all.

\----------------------------------------------

The journey up to Captain Banks’ office was completed without actual incident, although there was enough tension in the atmosphere to push Blair’s anxiety levels up a couple more unwelcome notches. The few uniformed officers they encountered on the way were too accustomed to Jim’s enhanced hearing to risk making any adverse comment, but Blair was rattled anyway by their emotional output.  Although he deliberately blocked his link to Jim, not wanting to provoke an attack of Blessed Protector syndrome, the empath easily detected a range of unsettling reactions, from simple curiosity to dislike, disgust, envy and even a disconcerting swirl of lust.

Frowning down at him and entirely unconvinced by his guide’s reassuring grin, Jim was uncomfortably aware of Blair’s attempts to distract him, but now was not the time to call him on it. But they would talk later, no doubt about it.

Arriving at Captain Banks’ office door Jim surreptitiously checked his guide, satisfied with the young man’s outward appearance at least. Blair had pulled his long locks back in a tidy ponytail at his nape, and was dressed neatly in a reasonably well-fitting, brown standard coverall.  Since he wasn’t official yet, he had no badges or insignia, but the outfit was a vast improvement on the orange penal-style jumpsuit he’d first been issued with on his capture.  Although like other civilian staff, scientists and officers of detective grade or above Blair would be entitled to wear civilian clothing under normal circumstances, as yet he had nothing available, the few items he owned being either stored with Rosie at the shelter or abandoned in the old warehouse.   Nevertheless, he made a very attractive picture, but Jim knew only too well that it would take more than a satisfactory exterior to impress Simon.  The man was, after all, responsible for one of the most effective and envied departments in the Cascade Security Force, so Blair was right to be concerned.

In the post-secession force, uniformed officers by and large filled similar roles to the patrol officers and beat cops in the old PD, but had the advantage of additional military-style training so that they could be deployed like troops when necessary in emergency situations. The new Intelligence and Scientific departments and associated divisions were basically made up of what would have been detective grade and forensic personnel.  But Simon’s department was the one to which most ambitious officers aspired.  Having been Captain of the old Cascade PD Major Crimes Unit, Banks had been called in to head up the new, upgraded version.  Now renamed the Serious Crimes Division, his department literally used the best available personnel – officers who were intelligent and proven detectives as well as being highly trained operatives in the field.  And where an untrained ex-thief was going to fit in to such an elite group was anybody’s guess as far as Blair was concerned.

Knocking sharply on the door, Jim glanced down at Blair, opening the door at Banks’ barked command to enter, and ushering the smaller man in with a warm but firm hand in the small of Blair’s back. The guide’s normally mobile features were unnaturally still, the studiedly blank expression betraying little or no emotion as his eyes flicked briefly around the office interior before settling on the large man seated behind the desk.

Banks was wearing a well-cut and fashionable suit which showed off his impressive physique admirably. However, although no longer clad in the intimidating full tactical gear he and his men adopted while on operations such as the dockside take-down, he was still plenty scary in Blair’s eyes, his ferocious scowl and calculating glare enough to cause the young man’s heart rate to skyrocket even more.  Nevertheless, because he could sense Jim’s growing concern on his behalf, he fought to contain his panicked reaction, stubbornly refusing to cringe before the big captain’s poorly-concealed derision and dislike.   The last thing he needed was to cause a rift between Jim and his commanding officer, because the backlash would undoubtedly affect all parties, and in no good way.  Stiffening his spine, he met the fierce stare head-on, forcing himself to match the other man look for look, determined not to be the first to break eye contact.  After long moments, he was rewarded by the briefest flash of respect in the brown depths before Banks waved his hand, wordlessly directing them to take a seat in front of him.

Jim was aware of the tiny victory; having been coiled and ready to spring to his guide’s defence if necessary; and relaxed infinitesimally as he and Blair took the seats indicated. However, since he was certain that this interview wasn’t going to be easy for any of them; he maintained his vigilance even as he felt a glow of approval for Blair’s spirit.  Courage was one thing, but if the kid resorted to his punk-ass attitude, Banks was not going to be impressed and their attempt to carve out a place for their partnership in the department would be screwed from the get-go.

Once his visitors were seated, Simon continued to study them, Blair in particular, with an assessing gaze, not yet ready to let them off the hook. Sure, the kid was neatly turned out now, and certainly pretty enough.  Simon was also grudgingly respectful of the fact that the empath, although plainly nervous, refused to be cowed by Simon’s best intimidating glare.  The one that usually had criminals shaking in their shoes and falling over themselves to confess.  However, Banks still couldn’t believe that this smart-mouthed street punk could possibly be what his friend needed despite Jim’s reassurances, wanting to see for himself just what the kid was really made of.  He was convinced that Jim was regarding his new guide through rose-tinted lenses, care of their recent bonding, and that once reality hit, he would come to his senses, so to speak, and wonder what the hell he’d let himself in for.

And suddenly he did see, and it was something of an epiphany.

Growing restless under his captain’s continued scrutiny; Jim reached over to take the kid’s hand, their non-verbal communication obvious to even the most jaded observer. The assumed aloof and vaguely insolent expression on Blair’s face changed instantly to one of gratitude, relief - adoration almost – as he met Jim’s enquiring gaze unflinchingly and returned the gentle squeeze, unashamedly intertwining his fingers with Jim’s.  Simon realised there and then that no actor, however accomplished, could fake that look.  Both of them were indeed in perfect sync, and he was just going to have to live with it.  Or accept Jim’s resignation as the man had offered.

And Simon wasn’t prepared to go that far without good cause. If he was to believe the evidence of his own eyes, there was a chance after all that this might possibly work out to all their advantages.  Possibly.

Coming to a decision, he harrumphed loudly, immediately commanding their attention once again.

“OK, OK! Enough with the love-fest!” he muttered, more than a little uneasy in the face of their mutual admiration society meeting but not entirely unsympathetic.  “I get the picture, Ellison, so you can stop with the calf-eyes.

“Anyhow, I might as well get this out in the open immediately, then see where we go from here. I still don’t like this bond, or the idea of Sandburg working in my department, but neither do I like the possibility of you handing in your resignation, Jim.  So you can stop with the bridling and frowning also and listen up.  We won’t get anywhere by antagonising each other more than necessary.”

Although thin-lipped and stern-faced, Jim nevertheless refrained from snapping at his boss, particularly as he glanced at Blair to see the kid offer a tiny nod of approval. The empath had obviously ‘read’ Simon, and had decided that the man was at least being up-front and honest with them.

Taking a deep breath, Jim finally nodded in reluctant capitulation before saying, “Thanks, Captain. I appreciate your candid opinion, and believe it or not I can see where you’re coming from.

“For what it’s worth, I’m truly sorry that our meeting and bonding have created such issues for you on an official as well as a personal level, but I can’t and won’t admit that I’ve made any sort of mistake. Because it simply isn’t true.  Yes, it’s only been three days and we have a long way to go, but our bond is strong, and I’m more pleased than I can say that we’re together now.  Blair has nothing to be ashamed of, and any and all the unpleasant stuff he’s been forced to do just to survive was completely out of his control.

“And I think I can speak for Blair also, although I know he’d prefer to tell you himself, but we’re prepared to work together for however long it takes to be accepted as a full sentinel and guide team in the Serious Crimes Division,” and he shot a wry glance over at his young partner, snickering at the unconvincing growl his comment elicited from his guide.

Turning his full attention back to the young guide, Simon said, “OK, I hear you, Jim. Now, Sandburg, I’d like to hear it from you.  Explain to me why I should trust you to work with Jim and not resume your criminal activities. _Any_ of your criminal activities.  And while you’re at it, explain to me just how you got hooked up with Starshewski in the first place.  Is it really all about that shelter Jim told me about?”

Blair regarded him carefully for long moments; head tilted slightly to one side as he ‘read’ the emotions rolling off the man. Finally, he nodded once, and clasping Jim’s hand tightly for reassurance, he began to speak.  And told Simon everything.

By the end of the long and emotionally-charged recitation, the atmosphere in the office had changed perceptibly. Despite his hard-won veneer of toughness, Blair was close to breaking down, only the strength of Jim’s physical and mental support holding him together.  Words finally drying up, he lowered his head, still gripping his sentinel’s hand tightly, and concentrated on regulating his breathing and finding his centre, unable for the moment to look either of his listeners in the eye.

Even though he had heard the tale before, Jim was incredibly moved at hearing it again as told in Blair’s own words. Blair had held nothing back, or tried to make excuses just to impress or placate the captain.  Certainly during their bonding sessions over the past couple of days Blair had shyly invited Jim to share his thoughts and memories a little more each time, but he realised that he hadn’t even begun to scratch the surface of the hidden depths and complexity of which his guide’s private character and public persona were made.  And he also realised that it would be well worth every bit of effort he put in to plumb those depths.  Knowing Blair needed a little space right now, he simply raised his free hand and reached up to rub gently at the soft skin of Blair’s nape underneath the ponytail, gratified to feel the smaller man relax slightly as he sighed quietly in mute appreciation of the comforting touch.

And as for Simon, he knew he had some serious re-evaluating to do, his basic honesty and sense of fair play telling him in no uncertain terms that he might well have underestimated the young man in front of him. Banks was no fool, his keen intelligence and pragmatism qualities that served him well in his role as a successful department head, but he was also able to discern the good soul within Sandburg.  He was therefore prepared to offer both men an olive branch, even if his acceptance was still conditional on their continued progress.

Nodding decisively, he cleared his throat and began to speak, directing his words at both men equally except for the first few, which were for Blair alone. Tone surprisingly gentle, he began, “Thank you, Blair.  I can tell that cost you a great deal to recount, and I appreciate your courage, kid.  I can’t begin to comprehend all that you’ve been through, but what I can say is that I’m prepared to cut you – cut you both as a partnership – some slack. 

“But before we go into that in more detail, you deserve to hear what I’ve put in place as far as New Dawn Shelter is concerned. You up to listening?”  And he was hardly surprised when Blair’s head shot up and his eyes sought Simon’s, the blue orbs bright and inquisitive once more, his personal worries thrust aside once again in favour of learning something good about his friends.

Offering the young man a small half-smile, he continued, eyes shifting to include Jim in his speech.

“Right then. Following what Jim told me, I’ve arranged for additional units – and foot patrols – to check out the premises and surroundings on a regular basis.  Since our resources are stretched, I had to give the Chief a good reason for the added cover, so I told him about the shelter being used as an occasional safe-house for Party refugees.  Now don’t worry,” he added hurriedly when Blair gasped in horror, his face telegraphing his anxiety.  “It won’t go any further, kid.  It’s on a ‘need to know’ basis, as I stressed that we can’t risk word getting out about our source of information.

“Having said that, I know it’s not much, but it’s the best I can do. And for what it’s worth, I personally don’t believe even a scumbag like Kozinski would torch the place simply for revenge.  It’s still a useful, if infrequently used resource, and you know as well as I do how the Party thinks about little people.  They might despise them, but keep them fed, keep them sweet and use them and their gratitude to manipulate them whenever you need numbers in your favour.  Even if they’re ultimately disposable, it would serve no useful purpose to stir up resentment for no good reason.  And there’s no way he can be certain that you’re the source of Starshewski’s downfall.  For all he knows, you could be dead.  Killed at the dockside; because sure as hell you haven’t been officially arrested.  I pulled the paperwork as soon as Jim went nuts on me and told me he was claiming you!” and here he chuckled ruefully, bitterly amused by Blair’s open-mouthed amazement.  The next moment, however, he sobered abruptly as he added, “Having said that, I have to admit there’s no absolute guarantee that your whereabouts are still unknown.  I like to think I can trust my people, but I can’t speak for other departments, so we’ll still have to stay alert.  Leaks are always a possibility, sad to say.

“Anyhow, to continue. I’m prepared to take you on - for a probationary period at least – to see how you shape up.  Obviously, you have a lot of training to catch up on, both in field work and guide duties, but at least you’re no innocent rookie.  You have street-smarts, and probably a lot of skills which can be adapted for our benefit, and I trust Jim to keep you on the straight and narrow.  So to speak.

“Once we’ve finished here, Jim can take you down to personnel to get your paperwork started, and then get you fitted with a new comm band. To start with, it’ll be the secure type.  That means it has limited frequency access to Security Force bands only.  And the tracker chip will be activated so we can trace you at all times even if Jim is temporarily out of the picture.”  He paused then, frowning as Jim rumbled indignantly, plainly about to complain on his guide’s behalf.  However, Blair jumped in immediately, rubbing Jim’s forearm soothingly and smiling up into his sentinel’s angry face.

“Hey, man, it’s cool! It’s no more than I’m used to.  I mean, Sol had me wear one also, so it’s no big deal.”

Appreciating Sandburg’s accepting attitude, Simon’s tone was more conciliatory when he continued.

“Thank you, Blair. Now, as I was about to say, once I’m happy with your progress, kid, you can upgrade to the standard type.  And of course, your credits will be downloaded automatically with immediate effect.”  And the look on Blair’s face at his words was priceless.

“Oh, man! Credits?  Wow!  I’ve never been paid before.  This is so cool!”

And the two older men found themselves both amused at his wide-eyed glee even as they were saddened at the artless revelation.

Like the rest of the advanced industrialised nations of the world, the old USA had been moving towards a currency-free society. Employees received their salaries in credits, which could be downloaded direct to their accounts, and activated initially by an updated version of the old chip and pin type cards or more recently through their personal tablets or comm band chips, both of which contained all the pertinent personal information.  Commodities could literally be purchased instantly either at source or at the touch of a screen; a super-fast online shopping experience for almost everyone.  For the steadily dwindling minority who had had no access to this technology as yet; mostly unskilled or itinerant manual workers; there was still a type of physical currency available in the form of tokens, but these were being gradually phased out, their demise speeded up by the secession at least as far as the new Northern Alliance states were concerned.  A few more isolated counties had reverted to their own form of local currency, but for others the old barter system worked reasonably well up to a point.  However, there was now a significant proportion of the population who had become accustomed to working for basic needs, whether in industry, agriculture or more nefarious businesses such as the production and distribution of drugs.  For these people it was a way of life dictated by necessity.  Their labours were rewarded by adequate food, clothing and a roof over their heads for them and their families, and they weren’t about to turn on their employers even if those employers were acknowledged criminals.  They were simply grateful that they weren’t part of the dispossessed and homeless underclass.  And of course the Party hierarchy throughout the country were well aware of the extent of such systems, and were happy to use the workers’ unquestioning passivity for their own cynical advantage.  Such latter-day feudalism played right into the hands of the new generation of wannabe robber barons and local political dictatorships.

In his way Blair had been just this type of ‘employee’, even if his passivity was forced upon him by the need to protect others. He had relied on Solomon for everything, a reluctant Artful Dodger to Starshewski’s Fagin, his comfort level dependent entirely on his success rate as a thief and minor criminal.  And sexual prowess, truth be told, although to a lesser extent.  But in all his short life thus far he had never been paid, _per se,_ hence the reason for his unaffected delight.

And neither Jim nor Simon had it in them to burst his bubble by making a joke of his happiness.

His grin almost amiable now, Simon caught Blair’s eye, saying, “Don’t get too excited yet, son. It’ll only be a minimal amount as yet to cover basics.  But if all goes well, your stipend as an official working guide in the department should be reasonable enough.  And you might even increase it if you get extra qualifications, although that’s jumping the gun a bit.  But it’s something to bear in mind.

“Anyhow, you two have things to do, so make yourselves scarce and get down to Personnel. Report back here at 0800 hours tomorrow.”  As the two men rose to their feet, it looked as if Blair wanted to speak, his eyes a little shiny with emotion.   Uncomfortable with dealing with such potentially sensitive exchanges, Simon swiftly pulled up a file on his tablet, feigning immediate interest as he muttered gruffly, “Don’t you two have some place to be?  Dismissed!”  And exchanging wry grins, Jim and Blair took the hint and left the office, unaware of Simon’s rather quizzical gaze following their retreat.

\-----------------------------------------

**That evening, the loft:**

Much later that evening, Jim and Blair sat pressed closely together on the sofa, having partaken of a quick but nourishing supper, and now taking the time to relax and enjoy each other’s company for an hour or two before bed. It had been a busy day, but Blair’s enthusiasm seemed undiminished nonetheless as Jim contemplated him fondly, watching his guide fiddling happily with the new comm band adorning his slender wrist.  With his feet tucked under him as he snuggled unselfconsciously in Jim’s one-armed embrace, Jim couldn’t help but consider that this was what the pre-secession teenage Blair would have been like.  Happy, inquisitive and warm-hearted; ready to embrace life and all its mysteries with open arms.  Although saddened at the thought of all the tough experiences his guide had endured since then, Jim was still heartened at this evidence of the undamaged core of beauty within, and vowed to do his utmost to help Blair fight and overcome his inner demons and nurture the good soul which refused to be denied.  Thinking back over the past few hours, Jim smiled softly as he replayed their day.

After leaving Banks’ office, the pair had made their way down to the Personnel Department so that Blair could fill in his electronic application forms: the ‘paperwork’ required to make his position official. Once there, he immediately charmed the middle-aged dragon who ran the front desk, his bright smile and polite enquiry after her health earning him an appreciative smile such as Jim had never seen adorn her face before.  It was a pity that Jim had to spoil the moment, although he was still perplexed as to the reason why?

Once Blair had settled himself down at the work station pointed out to him, Jim had addressed the lady – Vera – taking advantage of her unexpected good mood to exchange a few pleasantries while his guide was occupied.

“That’s a nice perfume you’re wearing, Vera. I’m sure I recognise it.  Is it ‘White Shoulders’?” he asked, with his own version of a winning smile.  Surprised but pleased at the normally taciturn and ultra-focussed Ellison’s polite enquiry, Vera blushed a little as she responded.  Whoever would have thought that the Lieutenant had a human side to him after all?  Must be the influence of that charming young man….

“Why, thank you, Lt Ellison. Yes, it is.  It’s my favourite.  Do you like it?”

“Yes. Yes, I do, Vera,” Jim had replied with a slightly distracted air.  “It reminds me of my Grandmother.  It was her favourite too…” and was taken aback at her snort of offended pride as she stepped back from the desk, her whole body radiating her displeasure.  Gazing at her in bewilderment, his expression one of surprise and consternation, it hadn’t helped when he heard a sub-vocal, “Nice one, Jim!” and an almost silent snicker from the far side of the office.

Later, Blair had attempted to explain the reasons for Vera’s sudden antipathy towards Jim, but Jim wryly admitted to himself that it was one of those ‘woman things’ that he was never going to understand.   _Then again, how come a kid like Blair could know this stuff anyway? Must be an ‘empath’ thing…._ and at that point, with a mental shrug, Jim shelved the topic.

Having completed the form-filling and taken their leave of the still glowering Vera; (glowering at Jim, that was. She offered Blair a very nice smile) – they returned to the infirmary where Blair had his new comm band and chip fitted.  Too happy to complain over the slight discomfort, Blair grinned with pure glee as he checked out the various functions, thrilled to find that Captain Banks had been as good as his word, and that a small sum of credits had already been downloaded for his use.  Jim decided that they could both use a little down-time; and what better way to spend a couple of light-hearted hours than spending a few of said credits on a few personal items for his guide?  Although not enamoured of shopping himself, he thought that a little retail therapy would work wonders for Blair’s gradually-emerging self-confidence, and he wasn’t disappointed.  A little uncertain at first, never having been in such a position before, Blair took his first small steps into the world of active consumerism.  Growing more confident at every small purchase, his enjoyment grew exponentially until the final item was packaged and he looked up at Jim, eyes alight and face fairly glowing with enthusiasm.

To be honest, he had bought very little. His credits were limited and he was careful not to use them all unnecessarily.  But the few items of basic clothing, inexpensive jewellery, toiletries and his very first cheap personal reader were enough to make him feel like a king.

“Oh, man! That was great!  Thanks for suggesting it, Jim.  I’ve never shopped like that before – ever!  I mean, I used to get a few tokens pocket money for doing errands and chores for Naomi and whoever we were living with at the time, but they were for essentials only.  Most retailers wouldn’t even look at the hard stuff.  Electronic-only purchases, you know?  And most of the places we lived in between her partners were communes, so we were pretty self-sufficient.  I’ve always wondered how it must be to get paid a virtual salary to spend as I liked.  It’s fun!”  Then his expression sobered as he continued thoughtfully, “But I can see how people used to get hooked on the old credit system and run up huge debts they could never hope to clear.  No wonder banks and money-lenders used to get such stick for encouraging gullible folks to over-spend and bankrupt themselves trying to pay off impossible interest rates.  At least with the currency-free system you can’t spend what you don’t have in virtual credits.”

“You got that right, kiddo,” Jim answered feelingly. “And if it hadn’t been for the secession, the new system would probably be working as well for us as a nation as for the rest of the civilised world.  We’re lucky that at least the Northern Alliance territories are making as much of a go of it as they can.

“But enough of the doom and gloom, buddy. I’m hungry, so let me use one of my credits and treat us, OK?”  And Blair nodded enthusiastically, all bounce again as his good mood returned instantly at the thought of food, especially eaten in Jim’s company.

\--------------------------------

As it turned out, they decided on takeout to be eaten in the comfort of the loft, but that didn’t lessen Blair’s enjoyment. And Jim was glad to witness Blair’s almost child-like pleasure as he chattered happily about his reactions to the day’s events even if he didn’t actually take all of it in.  The warm tones of his guide’s voice washed over him and soothed Jim as nothing else could have done before their bonding, and he smiled softly in lazy contentment.

He was roused from his reverie when he realised that Blair had shifted in his seat to face Jim, his expression sombre now as he sought Jim’s attention. The attractive features revealed a combination of emotions, and Jim couldn’t help but study his lover intently, his own expression quizzical and his curiosity instantly aroused.  The huge blue eyes were both shy and intense, and a soft but fetching blush coloured Blair’s cheeks.  His full bottom lip was caught between white teeth as he appeared to be working up the courage to speak, but the overall impression was one of love, and a slightly anxious desire to please.

Reaching up to cup Blair’s cheek in a warm palm, Jim smiled encouragingly. “What is it, baby?  I can tell there’s something serious going on inside that head of yours.  You can tell me, sweetheart…” and he gently caressed the soft skin beneath his thumb.

Instead of speaking, Blair gently pulled away, only to slide gracefully to his knees in front of Jim, his hands resting on the older man’s thighs. Although still plainly nervous, his eyes were smouldering now even as he swallowed hard before answering, voice deepened and rich with desire if slightly uncertain.

“Jim. My Sentinel.  I love you so much, and you’ve given me the best day.  I want to repay you, man.  Please?”  And he reached out a hand to touch the fastening of Jim’s pants, the material suddenly straining from the pressure of the heated flesh within.   But before the questing fingers could make contact, Jim seized the wandering hand in his own, wanting so much to indulge in the delight his guide offered, but unsure of its origin.  Over the past few days their lovemaking and bonding had been increasingly adventurous and intense, but Blair had never offered a blow job since that disastrous first time, and Jim hadn’t wanted to push him.  After all, as Jim already knew, it was the means by which Blair had been forced to service his masters, so couldn’t hold any pleasure or satisfaction for the young man.  Or could it?  A sharp tug at his hand brought his attention abruptly back to his guide, seeing a determined light in Blair’s eyes as the guide responded, voice now vibrant and compelling as he explained.

“It’s OK, Jim, truly. I _want_ to do this for you.  And for me too.  For the first time it’ll be because _I_ offer it, not because I’m being forced.  Please, man.  Please link with me, and you’ll see it’s true!”

And Jim could hardly deny Blair’s heart-felt plea, and did as he was bid. And found that his guide meant every word.

“Then I’d be honoured, baby,” he sighed, giving himself up into Blair’s capable hands and talented mouth as he relaxed in delight at the soft expression of love and satisfaction that spread over Blair’s face like the rising sun in the early morning. The young man’s expertise was a given, but his genuine pleasure in the act this time could not be mistaken, and Jim came harder than he could ever remember as he exploded in ecstasy, Blair humming contentedly as he swallowed every drop.

\-------------------------------------

**Following morning, Security Force HQ:**

Bright and early the next morning Jim and Blair entered the Security Force HQ, the guide once again tucked snugly against Jim’s side. He was noticeably more relaxed this time, however, and Jim could both feel and see the slightly smug and self-satisfied glow lighting Blair’s beautiful face.  Part of that inner glow was certainly down to Blair’s unqualified success in reducing his sentinel to a pile of boneless and thoroughly sated goo the previous evening, but it was also undoubtedly due to the exquisite love-making he had been treated to once Jim had recovered.  Their bonding had also been the best yet, with both men inviting the other further into their minds as their mental link continued to expand and solidify between them.   Considering that not even a week had passed since their first less-than-propitious meeting, Jim was both grateful and amazed at how much progress had been made already.  And he knew for a fact that Blair felt the same way, if not even more so.  Jim had at least wanted the bond from the outset, hoping for a successful outcome, but it had been the last thing Blair had had in mind.

But Jim wasn’t about to question his young guide’s radical change of heart. He simply intended to make the most of the precious gift of Blair’s trust, and ensure Blair never had reason to regret it.

And because of that, despite focussing primarily on his guide’s condition, he was also alert and maintaining an adequate level of awareness of their surroundings, ready to react should anyone appear to pose a threat of whatever kind.

Word had obviously gotten around regarding Blair’s status as Jim’s bonded guide despite his dubious past, and to be fair the ‘vibes’ the pair picked up from various individuals as they passed were generally more agreeable than the previous day. Jim knew that Blair wasn’t deliberately blocking him this time, so that although there was still some negativity it wasn’t bothering his guide unduly, so Jim decided he ought to let it go also rather than upset Blair by responding in anger. Neither man was naïve enough to believe that the worst was over, but the relative calm that had greeted their arrival thus far was cause for a little cautious optimism that Blair would eventually earn at least a modicum of tolerance if not actual acceptance and respect within the Security Forces in general.

On arriving at the Serious Crimes Division, instead of immediately reporting to Captain Banks’ office, Jim ushered Blair into the large outer room, still fondly referred to as ‘the bullpen’ by most of the department personnel. As the department’s hub, it was a hive of industry, not dissimilar in appearance to the old PD bullpens, but to Blair it was an eye-opener.  Having managed to avoid any form of close contact with the Security Forces until last week, and then being whisked straight from armoured truck to shower block and then to an interview room, he gazed around him in wide-eyed bemusement and unfeigned interest until Jim nudged him gently.

“Come on, Chief. Let’s get you settled at my desk, then we’ll see what’s wanted of us.  I suspect that Simon will want to introduce you to the principle team operatives, and then check out what sort of training courses you’re going to need to take.  I’m thinking though that there could well be a few techniques you could train us in, Junior, huh?” and he chuckled softly at Blair’s sharp look and quick frown.  There was no snippy retort however, as Blair could tell there was no malice in Jim’s comment, so his face relaxed into a wicked grin again as he shoved an elbow into his sentinel’s ribs instead.

With a surprised but pleased ‘Oomph’, Jim’s own grin broadened as he grasped his guide firmly by the nape of the neck and steered him towards his desk, laughing delightedly at Blair’s sub-vocal curses and threats of retribution as he willingly submitted to the light-hearted horseplay.

Momentarily lost in their own little world, it took a few moments to register that their arrival hadn’t gone unnoticed by the other occupants of the bullpen, but Jim was in no hurry to respond. Concentrating instead on his guide’s comfort, he pulled up a spare chair and seated Blair in front of his work station, his first priority to find out how competent Blair was with department computer and internet skills.  Having watched the young man play around nonchalantly with Jim’s personal tablet, the older man had a strong suspicion that Blair was way more _au fait_ with all things IT than he was.

In actual fact, their entrance had had a surprising effect on many of Jim’s colleagues, mostly, it had to be said, in a good way. Forewarned of his arrival, there had been a fair amount of speculation as to how the sentinel would react now he had finally bonded, and a good few wondered just what influence his chosen guide would have on him and the department.  Indeed, gossip had been rife throughout much of the building regarding exactly who and what the young man was, and it had to be said that a good proportion of the interest in him was less than sympathetic.  Some individuals’ curiosity had been downright morbid and unsavoury, especially amongst the uniforms and those in other departments who were jealous of the SCD’s lofty status having failed to make the cut themselves.  However, the friendly interaction and unrehearsed banter between sentinel and guide both surprised and cheered most of their observers, only a very few unsettled at seeing the resurgence of their colleague’s old, pre-online self.

Having gotten Blair settled, Jim glanced up to see a figure approaching their desk purposefully, but instead of the irritated growl Blair might have expected, Jim grinned broadly instead, straightening up to greet the man. Happy to rely on Jim’s positive response, Blair quickly but surreptitiously checked out their visitor, pleased and relieved by his first impressions.

The portly, middle-aged African American was as tall as Jim, and considerably broader, but his pleasant features spoke of gentleness and good humour, and his smile was wide and unaffected.

“Jim, my man! So good to see you back, and I was so glad to hear the good news about your bonding.  Can I offer your guide my congratulations?”

Warmed by the man’s careful observance of sentinel / guide etiquette despite long years of friendship, Jim’s own smile widened as he shook the offered hand.

“Thanks, Joel. It’s good to be back, and yes, let me introduce my new guide - and the love of my life,” he added more softly but with a definite smirk.  “Blair Sandburg, meet Captain Joel Taggart.  Joel here’s a good friend and a great officer.  Come and say hello.”  Smiling a little shyly, and unconsciously winning the other man over immediately, Blair stood and offered his own hand, albeit somewhat diffidently as he wasn’t sure whether the other man would actually want to touch him.  He was both surprised and thrilled when the big man took Blair’s smaller hand in both of his, and shook it warmly, his eyes and demeanour projecting nothing but honest pleasure.

“Very pleased to meet you indeed, son. I know you’re just what Jim needs, and by the look of things, you’re doing a great job already.  Welcome aboard, Blair,” and Blair found himself blushing in delight, enormously relieved to know that at least one of Jim’s colleagues wasn’t disgusted by him.

Over the next couple of minutes, Blair was treated to a brief description of Joel’s position within the department. Although slightly bashful and dismissive of Jim’s glowing claims, Joel looked quietly pleased at his friend’s words, even if his grin was a little wry and self-deprecating.  According to Jim, Joel had been captain of the Bomb Squad in the old Cascade PD.  Highly respected, he had finally ‘burned out’ immediately post-secession from the growing number of distressing incidents involving IEDs, deciding to stand down rather than risk his people through mistakes caused by his loss of confidence.  However, as a decorated serving officer and proven detective, he was welcomed into the Serious Crimes Division with open arms since his policing skills as well as his intimate knowledge of explosives were much appreciated.

Blair’s eyes reflected his open admiration as well as understanding as he listened to the tale, and he dearly hoped that he would eventually be able to call this man a friend.

However, their exchange of pleasantries was cut short by the arrival of Simon Banks, who strode purposefully from his office to join them, expression business-like but not unfriendly. “Joel, Jim.  Glad to see you here, and Guide Sandburg also,” he said, nodding briskly to each in turn.  “Come on over to the conference room.  You need to introduce your guide to the rest of the major team players, and I need to brief you about the upcoming pre-election gathering at City Hall.  The Mayor wants security to be as tight as possible, and it appears that that means us!”  He grinned wolfishly at Jim’s expected grimace of distaste, clapping him on the shoulder as he ushered the three of them ahead of him towards the conference room.

“Yeah, I know! Tell me about it!” he chuckled sympathetically.  “I know you think it’s just glorified babysitting, but there’s more to it than that, I assure you.  I’ll explain once we’re all together,” and Jim grinned ruefully over his shoulder at his boss as he wrapped an arm around Blair’s waist, automatically tucking the smaller figure protectively against his side as they made their way across the bullpen.

When the conference room door opened, it revealed a small group of individuals chatting amicably amongst themselves. However, conversation ceased immediately as they turned as one to observe the new arrivals. From his position beside Jim, Blair quickly studied the group, his curiosity plain as he waited for Captain Banks to introduce them.  Aware of Jim’s tacit support as he squeezed Blair’s waist, a small smile of encouragement on his handsome face, the younger man shot him a look of gratitude and reassurance before turning his attention back to Simon.

“OK, people. Let’s get this show on the road.  I’ll make the introductions, and you can have a _very_ brief meet-and-greet, then we have to get down to business, agreed?

“First off, allow me to introduce Inspector Megan Connor,” and Banks beckoned to the only female operative in the group. “Inspector Connor was visiting Cascade PD on an officer exchange programme, but decided not to return to New South Wales after the secession.  Their loss, our gain.”  As she approached, Blair couldn’t help but appreciate her tall, slender but obviously very fit figure topped by an attractive face surrounded by abundant brunette waves.  Her grin was wide and welcoming, and she held out her hand immediately to Blair as she addressed him directly, pretty much ignoring Jim despite his low, possessive growl.  Daringly dipping his shields, Blair ‘read’ her swiftly, detecting only genuine pleasure and curiosity in her demeanour, but he blushed when she offered a quick wink.  Realising she must be a sensitive and that he’d been made, he ducked his head briefly only to look up again at her friendly greeting.

“Hey, Sandy! Good to meet you, love, and can I say, you’re real beaut!  Jimbo’s one lucky bugger for sure.  I can tell you’ve already had a positive influence on the tight-arsed old whinger, so good on you.  I hope we’re going to be friends.”

More than a little nonplussed at Megan’s easy-going, rapid-fire comments as well as by her strong Australian accent, Blair’s mouth opened and shut wordlessly a couple of times before he managed to stammer out his reply. His answering smile however was wide and happy, and Megan was completely smitten when he murmured, “Thank you so much, Inspector.  I’m pleased to meet you, and I should be honoured to be your friend…”

“No worries, Sandy, and it’s Megan, OK?” and the irrepressible Aussie reached out and enfolded him in a brief but affectionate hug.

As Simon harrumphed impatiently, Jim snarled, “Enough already, Connor!” as he reeled Blair back in to his side. However, Blair couldn’t help but snigger as the woman winked cheekily again at him as she stepped back a pace or two, completely unfazed by his sentinel’s primal posturing.

As Joel watched from the side, smiling benignly at the interaction between his friends and colleagues, Simon beckoned the next man over.

This team member was another tall, dark-skinned man, whose round face was lit by a beaming smile. Wearing an outlandishly coloured shirt and strange-looking leather cap, he almost swaggered towards Blair, once again ignoring Jim’s snort of indignation as he also held out a hand to the delighted young guide, blissfully unconcerned with Sentinel / Guide protocol.

“Hey, Guide Sandburg! Pleased to meet you, Blair, my man.  I’m Henri Brown, usually called ‘H’ by my friends.  And I guess these guys count…” and he chortled at his own wit as he threw his arm out expansively to encompass all present.  “And I’m going to call you ‘Hairboy’!  Man, all those curls!  Got to say they suit you, babe,” and he grinned widely, waiting for Blair’s response.

“Um, good to meet you too…um…H?” Blair murmured, reeling somewhat from this second verbal onslaught. He could tell there was no malice in the man before him, just a rather overwhelming ebullience which was going to take some getting used to.  But he couldn’t help but return the cheerful grin with one of his own.

However, when a third man came over to join them, Blair felt a frisson of unease, even though the newcomer’s face wore a polite smile. He was a good-looking young man, a few years older than Blair, and impeccably dressed in a beautifully cut, fashionable suit, shirt and tie.  A grinning H clapped him on the shoulder, saying, “Meet my partner, Brian Rafe.  Or as we call him, ‘Mr GQ’!” and laughed uproariously at the long-suffering sigh and pained grimace his partner shot at him.

Pointedly observing the correct etiquette after nudging H none-too-gently in the ribs, Rafe addressed Jim first although he was careful not to appear to exclude Blair.

“Good to see you back, Sentinel Lt Ellison. May I be permitted to welcome your new Guide?”

Unaware of any uncomfortable undercurrents, Jim grinned approvingly as he replied, “Thanks, Brian. It’s nice to know that at least one of my friends understands Sentinel and Guide manners; apart from Joel, that is.  Um, and the captain, of course,” and he snickered at Banks’ snort of mock-irritation.

“Anyhow, allow me to introduce Guide Blair Sandburg. My bonded guide,” he added proudly as he pushed Blair forwards gently so he could hold out his hand to Rafe.

“Pleased to meet you, er, Detective Rafe,” Blair murmured politely, wincing internally at the brief stab of dark emotion that shot through him as his hand made contact with the other man’s. Swiftly closing off their shared link to prevent Jim from reacting to his instinctive recoil from his empathic reading of Rafe, Blair forced himself to remain smiling and calm even as he rapidly assessed what had just happened.  Despite Rafe’s smooth and suave exterior and welcoming smile, inside he harboured a bitter core of jealousy, envy and dislike, and Blair could feel those emotions centred emphatically on him.  Although the ‘reading’ was fleeting, it was enough for Blair to detect a definite empathic ability in the other man, even if very low-grade, and it occurred to him that it wasn’t too fanciful to surmise that perhaps Rafe had entertained hopes of being partnered with Jim.  If so, Blair’s arrival would be unwelcome to say the least, and he had the distinct impression that there could well be trouble ahead.

Nevertheless, Blair instantly decided that he wouldn’t say anything to Jim about his suspicions. He didn’t want to cause unnecessary friction within the team, and his fears may prove to be unfounded anyway; just another manifestation of his basic insecurity.

Realising he had been introspective and motionless for a little too long; enough to elicit a quizzical glance from Jim; Blair mentally shook himself and released Rafe’s hand, plastering a self-deprecating smile on his face. “Sorry, man.  Wool-gathering there for a moment.  Just a lot to take in, you know?” and he stepped back, unconsciously leaning into Jim for support.

“Sure, Chief. That’s understandable,” Jim’s tone reflected his sympathy and comforted Blair even if he didn’t have a clue as to what was actually troubling his young guide.  And Blair devoutly hoped that he would never have cause to find out.

As Simon introduced the last two members of the group, Blair smiled mechanically at them even though he was too distracted to really study them right then. Anton Hayes was a cheerful, freckle-faced redhead a couple of years older than Blair.  He was the resident IT and Communications specialist for the SCD, the division’s privileged status and case load justifying the placement of their own dedicated staff member rather than having to rely on the shared facilities of the Forensic and Scientific departments. 

Finally, Blair was introduced to Lt Alan Mainwaring, the SCD’s tactical advisor and weapons specialist. Tall, buff and direct, like Jim he screamed ex-military, which he had indeed been before being recruited to the new Security Forces.  A dedicated and competent soldier, he was also intelligent, quick-witted, innovative and adaptable, far more so than might be expected in a stereotypical serviceman, and for those qualities he had quickly been snatched up by the SCD.

Unaware of Blair’s inner turmoil on account of the young man’s consummate acting ability – and the fact that he still hadn’t reopened their link – Jim looked on calmly as the introductions were completed, assuming that Blair simply wanted a little private mental space to assimilate his new colleagues. And the slightly elevated heart rate and respiration were only to be expected under the circumstances, so didn’t give Jim any immediate cause for concern.

“Right then, people! Let’s get down to business!” Simon called his officers to order, and they all gathered around the large conference table, eager to hear what he had to say about the upcoming assignment.

\-----------------------------------------------------

During the remainder of the morning the team engaged in an intense brain-storming session, having been apprised of their mission and needing to discuss it in detail. As Simon had said earlier, their division had been tasked with providing the security for a pre-election gathering at City Hall, but it was far from a baby-sitting detail despite how Jim and his colleagues might describe it.  Because the Northern Alliance territories were clinging determinedly to the concept of maintaining as democratically elected a governing body as they could, in the past couple of years they had been forced to recognise the appearance of Party candidates for local and regional government, simply because the Party had the backing of so many people under their control.  Although everyone was aware of their underside, the fact that they had secured the votes of such a significant proportion of the population meant that they could no longer be ignored, as was also the case in the Southern Alliance and the independent territories.  The Party candidates might be sleazy and corrupt as hell, but they carefully and deliberately distanced themselves from obvious criminal activity and financial backing such that there was never any concrete proof of their involvement.  Claiming to represent an independent and widely-held viewpoint, they had enough power now to ensure that they could legitimately stand for election.

Needless to say, their inclusion in the latest pre-election campaign was bad news for the Security Forces, because for certain there was going to be trouble. And whether they liked it or not, the security teams responsible for all the candidates’ safety couldn’t legitimately exclude Party members from their protection.

Eventually, Simon called for a time out so that his team could have a brief coffee and bathroom break as needed, which suggestion was greeted with more than a few sighs of relief. As they gathered around the coffee machine which had been set up in the corner of the room, Megan attempted to lighten the atmosphere a little by approaching Blair and subjecting him to a gentle but searching interrogation regarding his life history.   Rather embarrassed, and aware that Jim was not happy at the line his colleague’s questioning was taking, yet Blair knew he had to respond since he was now the unwilling centre of everyone’s attention whether Megan had intended it or not.

Hoping to steer clear of his more recent past, Blair launched into a brief explanation of how he had started at Rainier, intending to major in anthropology pre-secession, only for the place to be closed down after rioting. Patting his shoulder sympathetically, Megan conjectured whether he and Jim might have met back then, as she knew Jim had been on the ground during the disturbances and clean-up operations.  Jim frowned, a fleeting memory teasing at the back of his mind, but Blair laughed somewhat self-consciously.  “I doubt it, Megan.  Even if we had, he wouldn’t have recognised me.  I was a skinny sixteen-year-old geek with bushy hair and glasses.  Why would a big, strong security officer notice me?”

“Well, I for one think that you would have been noticeable even then, Sandy,” Megan replied with a suggestive smirk. “But how come you don’t need glasses now?  Have you had corrective treatment?”

Although he was sure it was an honest question and she wasn’t being deliberately nosy or provocative, Blair still blushed and ducked his head briefly before answering.

“Well, yeah. I did have laser treatment.  Sol Starshewski arranged it.  He didn’t like me wearing glasses.  Said it was a turn-off for him, and I needed twenty-twenty vision to…um…be able to deal with complex locks and security systems…” and his voice tapered off into embarrassed silence.

Realising she had overstepped the mark, Megan didn’t need Jim’s growl to warn her that the young guide needed a break, so when he made his excuses and headed for the bathroom, she gripped Jim’s forearm, unintentionally distracting him from tracking Blair’s hurried exit.

“I’m sorry, Jimbo. I didn’t mean to upset Sandy.  He’s a great kid, and I for one think he’s the best thing that could have happened to you – and I’ve only just met him!  But seriously, I know I’m too outspoken sometimes, so I’ll apologise when he gets back.  He doesn’t need a gobby Aussie poking into his privacy.”

Knowing that Megan was sincere, Jim nodded his acceptance even though he was still annoyed at her thoughtlessness. “I’m sure he’ll forgive you, Connor.  He’s a good-hearted soul under the street-kid exterior.…”

Glancing up in puzzlement as Jim’s voice tailed off and his face took on a look of frowning concentration, Megan automatically increased the pressure of her grip on the sentinel’s arm, grounding him while his head cocked in a listening pose.   Several seconds later he yanked his arm free of her grasp, and with a feral snarl, tore out of the conference room and headed full-pelt for the bathroom in search of his guide leaving a roomful of astonished colleagues in his wake.

\--------------------------------------

When Blair had retreated to the bathroom, he quickly took care of business, then washed his hands, splashing some water on his over-heated face as he took a few moments to regain his equilibrium. He knew the Aussie Inspector wasn’t being deliberately crass, but her inquisitiveness had elicited information he would rather have kept to himself for a while longer until he was more sure of his place in the team.  Sighing in exasperation, he was about to exit the bathroom when he heard heavy footsteps approaching, and he could literally feel the anger and antagonism rolling off the new arrivals even from outside the room.  Not needing or wanting any sort of confrontation, he ducked back into the furthest stall and pulled the door to, hoping that he would escape detection.

In actual fact, the two uniformed officers who were just entering were well aware of his presence, having noted his hurried departure from the conference room from across the bullpen. Exchanging meaningful glances, they moved in to corner their prey, either forgetting, or, more likely, no longer caring as to whether the punk’s sentinel could hear them or not. Like several other uniforms, they were bitterly resentful of the fact that Sandburg was receiving such privileged treatment within this elite division, and they intended to make their views known regarding what they perceived as rank unfairness.

“So, Murray. What do you think of the new recruit, huh?  Bit of a surprise, wouldn’t you say?  I mean, fancy High-and-Mighty Ellison being forced to bond with some gangster’s thieving fucktoy.  Talk about a lowering of standards.   I’d ‘a thought Captain Banks would have made more of a fuss about it.”

The disdain dripping from the comments was matched by the reply.

“Yeah, you’d think. But maybe he didn’t have much choice.  Any more than Ellison did.  I mean, poor guy!  Fancy having to bond with a fucking wharf rat just to stay sane!  Some folks have all the luck!” and the second man sniggered nastily at his own dubious wit.

As Blair’s face flamed in hurt and shame at the words, the first man spoke again, this time the pure venom and vindictiveness in his tone unmistakable.

“You got that right, Murray. That thieving piece of shit should have been tried and convicted.  Little punk should be working full-time servicing the gang-bangers in lock-up instead of being treated like some sort of celebrity just ‘cos he’s a guide.  And the sooner Ellison realises his mistake the better.  We don’t need thieving whores in this division.”

As he spoke, he moved purposefully towards the last stall pushing the door open as he sneered, “Well, lookee here! I’ve found a rat in the john.  Best deal with it, huh?” and he reached in to drag Blair out.  

However, before he could make contact, the bathroom door burst open to reveal a primal sentinel in all his awesome glory. Almost incandescent with rage, Jim grabbed the man, hurling him bodily across the room to crash against the far wall, stunned and breathless as he slid slowly to the floor.  Turning aside, Ellison reached for the other man, whose arms were raised defensively as his horrified expression betrayed his utter terror for his own life.  However, just then the door crashed open again to reveal Simon Banks, the rest of his team at his back.  Swiftly surveying the scene, he saw Jim moving in for the kill against a cringing uniform officer, his attack only held at bay because his small guide was hanging determinedly on to his arm, pleading with him to stand down.

“No, Jim! Please!  It’s not worth it, man!  I need you.  I don’t want to have to visit my sentinel in jail as a convicted murderer!  Please, Jim!”

That was enough for Banks. “Stand down, Sentinel Ellison!” he roared, striding into the room.  “Listen to your guide, man.  I don’t care what the provocation, just get control of yourself!  And until you can do that easily, get out.  Go home, talk to your guide, and wait for my call.  Go!!” and he straightened up to his full height, pointing imperiously at the door as he dared the other man to disobey him.

Breathing heavily, it seemed for a second as if Ellison was about to defy him, but another sub-vocal plea from Blair settled the matter, and Jim relaxed minutely, if with obvious ill-grace, before hugging his guide to his side and striding wordlessly from the bathroom, looking neither right nor left as he all but hustled his companion to the elevator.

Watching their departing backs, Simon sighed in exasperated relief as he said, “OK, folks. Let’s get this mess cleaned up….”

\-----------------------------------------

**Shortly afterwards, the loft:**

Eyes round with worry, Blair tracked Jim’s progress as the still irate sentinel circled the apartment, for all the world like a big cat checking out and marking his territory. Which he probably was, Blair thought with a rueful internal snicker, since he was well aware that Jim’s spirit animal was a sleek, black jaguar.  However, there was nothing remotely amusing about the man’s continuing aggressive behaviour, and Blair’s own anxiety reflected his very real concerns, not just for his own safety, but for Jim’s also.  Sure, he knew that Jim would never willingly raise a hand to him under normal circumstances, but this was the first time Blair had witnessed Jim-the-sentinel in full battle-mode.  Add to that the inevitable BPS, and Blair wasn’t at all convinced that the sentinel could refrain from striking out at him before he realised what he was doing.  Common sense told Blair that he ought to make himself as invisible as possible until Jim was over the hump, but he couldn’t help but feel that as a guide, it was his responsibility to bring his sentinel down from his aggressive high as soon as possible before any more harm could be done.    Drawing on reserves of courage he didn’t even know he possessed, Blair stiffened his spine and approached the prowling sentinel, hands outstretched placatingly as he swallowed hard, schooling himself to speak.  He hadn’t dared try during the frantic and hair-raising drive back from HQ, terrified that he might distract his furious partner enough to cause an accident.  Even now he still wasn’t sure how they arrived back in one piece.

“Come on, Jim, man. It’s OK.  I’m OK, you’re OK, and hopefully that asshole cop’ll be OK also.  Unless someone else decks him, that is.  Please, Jim, calm down.  Listen to me. _Link_ with me!  Let me do my job and guide you!”

Reaching out tentatively to touch the broad back, he could actually see the superb muscles ripple beneath Jim’s sweater in hyper-sensitive reaction as the big man swung around to face him, a rumbling snarl of displeasure forced out from between bared teeth. Blair gasped in shock, wincing instinctively in anticipation of being struck, only to open his eyes fractionally a few fraught moments later when the expected blow failed to land.  Instead of the feral sentinel, Jim the man stood before him, an expression of confusion and no little shame colouring his features as he slowly reached out to grasp Blair’s upper arms in a gentle grip.

“It’s OK, Chief. I’m sorry if I scared you, but I’m back.  Gods!  I don’t think I’ve ever reacted that way before, but then, no one’s been stupid enough to try to hurt my guide before either.  I’ve never been so angry – so determined to punish and destroy!  It’s pretty damn scary, kiddo.  All I can say is that I’m glad you were strong enough pull me back under control.  Brave enough to try.  Thanks, babe.  You’re some guide,” and he pulled Blair in for a hug, palming the back of the young man’s head to press his face gently into Jim’s neck.  They stood for several minutes, gradually relaxing and taking comfort in their mental link, exchanging reassurances as they recovered from their first major test as sentinel and guide.

\-----------------------------------

Blair poked desultorily at the uneaten food on his plate, having no appetite for the late lunch Jim had prepared for them both. He knew Jim was watching him covertly, undoubtedly worried and irritated in equal measure since Blair was still noticeably underweight, and needed feeding up.  However, although he didn’t want to antagonise Jim any more than he could help, he was still too wound up about the morning’s fracas to persuade his queasy stomach to cooperate.

To be honest, he wasn’t unduly surprised or even worried on his own behalf about the attempted attack. He had known that it was going to take a lot of time and effort on his part to overcome Jim’s colleagues’ natural suspicion and earn a measure of respect, but it bothered him how much that suspicion was affecting Jim, burdening him unnecessarily when all he wanted to do was his duty as sentinel and protector of his city.

Then again, if Jim hadn’t been so adamant that he wanted to bond with Blair even knowing his background, neither of them would be in this predicament right now.

Suddenly, Blair desperately needed to unburden himself – find a genuinely sympathetic shoulder he could cry on just for a while – and he knew immediately to whom that shoulder belonged. In the absence of his Mom, Rosie had remained a true friend and sometime maternal figure even though circumstances had dictated that they only meet up infrequently over the past few years.  In fact, the last time he had managed to see any of his friends at the shelter had been before his last dockside ‘placement’ some months ago, and it suddenly occurred to Blair that Rosie may not even know if he was alive, dead or in prison.  He sat up straighter in his seat, determined now to correct that situation, pushing his plate aside as he met Jim’s inquisitive gaze.

“Jim, man, look, don’t take this the wrong way, but I need to go out for a while. I need to see Rosie and my friends at the shelter – see they’re OK, and let them know I’m still around and safe.  I won’t be long, and I promise I’ll be back by this evening.  And you’ll know where I am anyway, won’t you?” he continued with a wry half-smile, waving his comm band adorned wrist in the air.

He had expected some resistance to his request, already mentally preparing his arguments and ready to bring his significant powers of persuasion to bear on his partner, but was completely taken aback by the strength of Jim’s vehement refusal. It hadn’t really occurred to him that his sentinel would deny him outright knowing that Blair was more than capable of taking care of himself on the streets although he should have guessed that the uber-protective side of Jim would do no less.

“Are you out of your tiny mind?” Jim finally spluttered after a few moments of stunned disbelief.

“What the hell makes you think I’d let you go gallivanting off without me? You’re my _guide,_ Sandburg, not some casual roomie or acquaintance, and I’m responsible for your safety.  And it’s a responsibility I take very seriously!  You can’t just go down on a social visit to a place like New Dawn, because sure as hell it’ll still be under surveillance by your ex-employers.  And it’s in a rough area as you well know.  Use your head even if your common sense has taken a hike!”

Frowning in real shock and hurt, Blair sat back and stared at his sentinel, unable to assimilate Jim’s intractability for several seconds. But he could do obstinate too, and he wasn’t about to give in just on Jim’s say-so.  “So, what – am I under house arrest or something?  Did I misunderstand when you said I was your partner, and I wasn’t going to be charged?  That I’m a free man?  Or am I only ‘free’ if I do exactly what you say?  Mom was right.  You sentinels still think you’re the master race.  This so-called modern belief that sentinels and guides form an ‘equal partnership’ is just a joke.  A crappy joke!”

Blair’s painful words hit home, and Jim reared back as his ego absorbed the accusation. The kid might be striking out in anger, but there was an element of truth in his claims that niggled at Jim’s conscience.  However, the unwanted feeling of guilt that washed over him only served to stoke his anger again.  He would protect his ungrateful brat of a guide even if said guide didn’t want or appreciate his efforts.

Then again, perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to try reason before he was forced to take more drastic steps.

“Look Chief, I know you’ve had a rough day – we both have – and I can understand you wanting to get out for a bit to check on your friends, do something different. But can’t you see that I can’t let you put yourself in danger?  If you really want to see Rosie, I’ll come with you, maybe tomorrow, OK?”

And he was shocked and then further infuriated at Blair’s incredulous response.

“Oh man! Are you serious?  Look, I appreciate the offer, man, but what makes you think they’ll want to see you?  I’m sorry, big guy, but Rosie’s of the same opinion as Naomi when it comes to military and police types.  To them you’re all jackbooted thugs, so they sure as heck won’t appreciate a social visit.  Hell, Rosie might even be tempted to give you a taste of her baseball bat for capturing me and making me your guide.  She’ll never believe I agreed to it in the end.  No man, I need to go, and go on my own.”  And he sat back, arms folded across his chest with an air of finality.

He got his answer when Jim shot to his feet and towered over him, deliberately using his physical presence to intimidate his fractious lover.

“You. Will. Not. Go. _Anywhere._ Without. My. Permission!  You hear me?  If I can’t trust you to look after your own hide, then I’ll do it for you!  End of Story!” and he glared at Blair for a long moment before grabbing their plates and stalking to the kitchen, intent on cleaning up, and leaving Blair sitting there open-mouthed and speechless.  Grimly satisfied with the stunned reaction, Jim was certain that he had made his point and that the argument was over.

But if he’d turned and really looked at the mutinous expression that crept over his guide’s face, he’d have realised that he couldn’t have been more wrong.

\---------------------------------

The rest of the afternoon passed slowly as far as both men were concerned, as Blair continued to sulk, his resentment growing the more he brooded on the situation. He knew he was acting like a spoiled brat, and tried to listen to his inner voice of reason which told him Jim only had his welfare at heart.  And also that he should be grateful that he wasn’t indeed serving time and trying to avoid acting as surrogate girlfriend to horny lifers.  On the other hand, it was the sentinel that had scented him at the docks, and who had set the whole chain of events in motion.  The wicked little imp perched on his shoulder whispered treacherously in his ear that he would probably have managed to escape detection anyway if it hadn’t been for Jim’s enhanced senses and his burgeoning desire to find himself a guide.

And it did no good whatsoever in his present frame of mind to consider that even if he had escaped, he would probably now be serving Marcus Kozinski, which would be a whole lot worse than his previous ‘employer’, Starshewski.

After sitting through a painfully silent dinner, which Blair again failed to do justice to, Jim decided enough was enough, and declared that he was going to get an early night. Looking up from his plate and the food with which he was toying, Blair summoned a faint conciliatory smile.

“OK, Jim. But I’m not really tired yet.  I’ll join you later, OK?  I may as well do some more studying while I have the time.  Ready for when we go back to work, you know?

“Assuming Banks’ll still want me that is…” he added darkly.

Patting his guide’s shoulder gently, Jim’s expression softened a little at Blair’s apparent return to reason.

“That’s fine, kiddo, but don’t be too long. And I think Simon’ll be OK in a day or so.  It wasn’t your fault after all, and it’ll just be a case of those two assholes getting their comeuppance.

“See you shortly…” and he had to grin at Blair’s automatic response, “Don’t call me ‘shortly’….”

\-------------------------------------

As soon as he was certain that Jim was asleep, Blair furtively began to set in motion the plan he’d been hatching during the afternoon. Although tight with nerves, as he knew he was asking for big trouble if Jim woke to find out that he had left the apartment, he was still angry and resentful at Jim’s unreasonable attitude, which made him all the more determined to pay his dear friends a quick visit.  And if he was lucky, he would be back before Jim woke and no one would be the wiser. 

Stealthily retrieving the spare white noise generator he knew Jim kept handy in the kitchen, he switched it on and placed it just inside the bedroom door. Once he was sure that it was working, and that Jim remained relaxed and sprawled out on their big bed, he crept to the front door and slipped out, resetting the security locking system and moving swiftly to the elevator.  Once on the ground floor, he exited the building and took a moment to deactivate the tracker in his comm band; a simple matter for a man with his skills.  Although it was only temporary, it would give him a bit of leeway should anyone at SF HQ be doing a routine check up on him, and decide to contact Jim with their suspicions about his whereabouts.  For a moment he was tempted to hotwire Jim’s precious truck, but he decided that was taking things too far, especially if he managed to get it dinged up, since it was a long time since he drove anything quite so antiquated.

Checking carefully around him, he set off down the street, keeping to the shadows until he spotted a vacant automated metro-cab, which he appropriated, glad that he still had enough credits left to pay for the trip across town to the district where the New Dawn Shelter was situated.

Programming the cab to set him down a few blocks from the shelter, Blair went the rest of the way on foot, keeping to the back alleys and avoiding places where he knew vagrants and gangs of ne’er-do-wells gathered during the long hours of the night.

Approaching the shelter, he carefully skirted around the back of the building, ducking out of sight of the patrol unit that cruised slowly around the block, obviously still carrying out Captain Banks’ orders to keep an eye on the place. Blair felt a warmth in his chest at the man’s integrity even if the big captain still scared the crap out of him, and he grinned slightly as he rounded the corner to approach the shelter from the kitchen door, accessed via the back alley.  Since the place would be closed for the night, with everyone who had successfully obtained a bed undoubtedly already settled in, Blair had no intention of marching up to the front door, since he knew it would be a simple matter for him to get into the kitchen, locked or not.  Once inside, he would make his way up to Rosie’s office, where he knew she would still be dealing with routine administration despite the lateness of the hour.  It was unlikely that Mitch and Hilda would still be there, but at least he could catch up on their doings through Rosie.

His grin widened in happy anticipation of seeing his friend as he covered the last few yards of darkened alley. Only to be halted abruptly by a hand grasping his ponytail in a cruel grip which then yanked him backwards to collide with a hard chest.

Gasping in shock, Blair froze as he felt the barrel of a pistol dig into his side, and an all-too-familiar voice grated in his ear.

“Hello, baby,” Sol Starshewski drawled menacingly. “I knew it wouldn’t be long before you made your way here again.  Just needed to be patient.  And it’s not like I have anything else to do now, is it?   Which I’m thinking is probably your fault, you treacherous little shit!  Convince me I’m wrong!” and he pulled Blair’s hair harder, enough to bring tears to the young man’s eyes.  Heart hammering in his chest, Blair fought to keep control of his terror, knowing that he had to do some nifty verbal tap dancing if he was to get himself out of this mess.  He had managed to placate and divert Sol more often than not during their acquaintance, hence his relatively unscathed condition and modicum of freedom, but he knew he was going to have to be at his most convincing this time if he was to get out of this in one piece.

“No, Sol, it wasn’t me, I promise you! Hell, I’ve been on the run ever since the raid on the docks!  I’ve been lying low this past week, keeping my head down, because word on the street was that Marcus has been promoted in your place, and I sure as hell don’t want to work for him.  You know what he thinks of me, Sol.  Why would I rat on you if it meant that he gets the power?  I’d have to be crazy!”

He put all his powers of persuasion into his voice, because after all, it was the truth to a great extent. He had always hated Kozinski – was frightened of the guy’s sadistic streak, especially towards pretty boys like Blair.

His words seemed to be having an effect on Sol as the cruel grip slackened a little, but the gun remained in place, pressed now against his lower back.

“Tell you what, pretty baby. Let’s you and me go into the shelter and talk some more.  Maybe that friend of yours can corroborate your story, huh?  Shall we ask her?” and he sniggered nastily as Blair shook his head in vehement denial as much as he could against the hand holding his hair.

“No, man. Please, Sol!  Don’t hurt Rosie.  She won’t be able to tell you anything.  You said yourself that you’d been watching this place since the raid.  You’d know if I’d been here already.  Look, I’ll go with you, man, wherever you want, but leave the shelter alone.  Please!”

Sol paused for a moment, seeming to consider Blair’s words, when two things happened simultaneously to his great consternation. The kitchen door cracked open to reveal a baseball bat-clutching Rosie peeking around the frame; and a loud voice barked, “Freeze!  Cascade Security!  Drop the weapon and let him go!”

\----------------------------------

**The loft, shortly before:**

While Blair was making his stealthy approach to the shelter, Jim was roused from his sleep by a sudden feeling of dread, and he knew instinctively that it concerned his guide. Casting his senses out, he was horrified to hear absolutely nothing of Blair’s beloved heartbeat and his residual scent was already growing cold.  Throwing back the covers, he quickly jumped from the bed and made for the door, only to stub his toe on the white noise generator place just within.  Seeing it was switched on, and knowing exactly why, he cursed loudly and hurled the innocent machine against the wall, where it shattered into a thousand pieces.  As he hurriedly pulled on his clothes, he tried to open their mental link, but found it closed to him.  He received no response to his attempts to contact Blair via the comm band either, and snarled in frustration as he realised the tracker was inactive.  Furious now, but also desperately scared for his guide and lover, he tapped the band again and called Simon instead, uncaring as to whether the other man was in bed or not.

When a sleepy voice growled, “Banks! Whaddya need, Jim?” Jim started straight in without any attempt at niceties.

“Blair’s gone, Simon. We had an argument earlier, and he snuck out.  Little shit used a white noise generator and has managed to deactivate the tracker function on his comm band.  Don’t ask me how!  But I’m sure I know where he went.  He wanted to go to the shelter to see Rosie Wilkins and I told him no.  I’m on my way there now.  Can you see if any of the patrols have spotted him?”

As he talked, he grabbed his car keys and weapon and headed out of the loft, sprinting for the elevator to take him down to the parking garage.

“Well, shit!” his boss was saying. “What the hell is he thinking?  He might be street-smart, but he must know the risk he’s running with Starshewski still on the loose!  Look, I’ll call the HQ and speak to the patrol officers, then I’m on my way.  See you in a few…” and cut the connection as soon as Jim acknowledged.

Jim was seething with anger as he drove like a maniac for the shelter, cursing his guide for a soft-hearted fool as he ground his teeth together in frustration. Gods!  If the kid thought he was being kept on a leash before, he was certainly going to find out just how tight that leash could become once Jim had him back safe and sound.  And if he didn’t like it, then tough.  No one would get the chance to touch or hurt his guide again.  No one!

As he drove, he vaguely registered when Simon informed him that the patrols had reported nothing untoward in the area of the shelter, but Jim was hardly reassured at that news. Blair would have no problem evading such patrols, so that was hardly proof that he wasn’t somewhere in the vicinity.

Pulling up a couple of blocks from the shelter, Jim checked his weapon, then slipped out of the truck, only to be intercepted by his boss.

“Just where do you think you’re going, Lt Ellison? You may think you’re Superman, but I know for a fact that your guide will have tried to disabuse you of that misconception.  And you won’t be doing him any favours if you go in half-cocked!  So just hold on for a minute, and let’s get a better idea of the situation!”

Despite his desperate urgency, Jim couldn’t help but flash a wry grin at his boss and friend’s words. Although he knew Simon wouldn’t have driven as crazily as he had, the route from Simon’s apartment was more direct so he should have expected the man to get here in time to offer his assistance.

“Thanks, Simon. I just hope that Sandburg appreciates--” and he tailed off abruptly, fixing Simon with a worried but determined gaze.

“Shit, Simon! I can hear him!  And he’s not alone.  I think that bastard Starshewski’s got him!  Hurry!” and he took off at a run, uncaring as to whether Banks was following him or not.

Reaching the entrance to the alley behind the shelter, Jim ducked down behind a nearby dumpster and peered around the side. And was both horrified and infuriated to see his guide held securely in the grip of a large and dangerous-looking man, one of whose hands was wrapped around Blair’s ponytail, and whose large and deadly weapon was pressed against the young man’s body.  Opening his hearing, he held his hand out to prevent Simon from breaking cover as he heard his guide’s panicky words.

“No, man. Please, Sol!  Don’t hurt Rosie.  She won’t be able to tell you anything.  You said yourself that you’d been watching this place since the raid.  You’d know if I’d been here already.  Look, I’ll go with you, man, wherever you want, but leave the shelter alone.  Please!”

That was more than enough for the enraged sentinel, and he stepped out from behind the wall, weapon at the ready as he snarled, “Freeze! Cascade Security!  Drop the weapon and let him go!”

Things happened very quickly after that. Distracted by Rosie’s appearance and the shockingly sudden apparition behind him in the form of Ellison, Sol’s concentration was broken and his attention divided just long enough for Jim to get a bead on his exposed face behind Blair’s head so he took the shot.  And took Sol cleanly with a bullet through the right eye.

The big man was hurled backwards with the force from the shot, his own gun flying from already lifeless fingers as he fell. However, his other hand was still entangled with Blair’s hair, so the smaller man was dragged backwards to fall on top of his attacker’s body.  He lay there unmoving for a moment before struggling wildly to disentangle himself from Sol’s last embrace.  And somewhat unfortunately under the circumstances, help arrived from two sources, the first being in the form of Rosie, who took him in her arms and held him close as he shuddered through the first symptoms of a major panic attack.

Blair leaned gratefully into his friend’s comforting embrace for several moments, desperately trying to keep a lid on his fervent desire to melt down completely. However, even in his sorry state, he quickly became aware of another presence in the shape of an angry, possessive and virtually feral sentinel.  A sentinel who was now growling in barely-controlled fury at the interloper who dared to hold and comfort his guide.  And Rosie had absolutely no intention of being intimidated by the imposing security officer looming threateningly over her and Blair.  For all she knew, her friend was about to be arrested, and there was no way she’d sit back and just let Blair be taken away without a word of explanation.  Hell, she’d had to stand up to Party thugs who wanted to use her shelter for years, so she wasn’t about to back down to this posturing bully.

“Let go of him – now!” Ellison snarled, coiled in readiness to remove the woman physically from his guide’s presence if necessary.

“In your dreams, pig!” came the swift retort. “What reason do you have to touch my friend?  He stays with me, unless you want to exercise some of that police brutality on me too!”

Pulling himself together with more determination than he’d known he possessed, Blair knew it was up to him to defuse the situation before it got out of hand. He couldn’t have the two people he loved most in the world hurt each other because of him.  Pushing himself gently away from Rosie’s embrace, he looked her in the eye, shaky and embarrassed, but resolute.

“Please, Rosie. It’s not like it seems, really.  I...I was coming here to tell you…to explain what’s been going on with me.  Um, see, after the dockland raid, I _was_ arrested.  B…but you see, I’m a guide.  Honest.  I’ve always kept it quiet, but it’s true.  And Lt Ellison here claimed me.  So I didn’t go to jail.  Just got myself bonded instead,” he added, blushing rather shamefacedly when Rosie gasped in astonishment.

Turning away to address Jim, he missed her frown and muttered, “Sounds like one and the same to me!” although it wasn’t lost on the sentinel.

However, Jim’s full attention switched back to his guide when Blair held out his hand, palm outwards in a placating gesture as he met Jim’s gaze, anxiety uppermost in his expression as he appealed to his angry lover. “Please don’t be mad at Rosie, Jim.  I just wanted to see her – needed to explain things – and I guess I wanted some comfort too.  Some familiarity?  I’m sorry, Jim.  I know you’re mad at me, and I don’t blame you.  This is all my fault…” and his gaze flitted to where Simon was standing over Sol’s lifeless body, busy calling up the coroner’s van and backup units to deal with the fallout.  Not too busy to keep a watchful eye on proceedings though, and Blair blushed deeply when he growled, “You got that right Sandburg!  What the hell do you think you were doing?  I should throw your worthless hide in the slammer just for stupidity!”

He clamped his mouth shut when Jim swung around to face him, glowering ferociously even though the man managed just barely to swallow his angry retort when his devastated guide touched his arm gently, pleading silently through their re-opened link for restraint.

Studying the tableau before him with a critical eye, Simon had to acknowledge a grudging respect for the young guide, who despite his shocky state was still trying to do his job and had succeeded at least in containing the worst of Ellison’s fury.

And as for Rosie Wilkins, Simon had to admit that the woman had guts, and he had to admire the love and loyalty she had for Blair which was plainly demonstrated in all her actions thus far.

As the coroner’s van pulled up, closely followed by the back-up and forensics teams, the momentary stasis was broken, and with an apologetic glance at his friend, Blair moved into Ellison’s space, to be pulled tightly into the sentinel’s side as the big man glared once again at Rosie. As he was hurried away, Blair glanced back at the still concerned woman, mouthing, “Thank you, Rosie.  I’ll be OK.  Take care of yourself…” then his attention was fully centred on his sentinel as Jim marched him back to the truck.

\---------------------------------

The drive to the SF HQ to give their statements was again completed in painful silence with a grim-faced Jim concentrating fiercely on the journey rather than Blair, other than the automatic sensory scan which was already second nature to the sentinel. He was well aware that the young man reeked of anxiety and barely-controlled tears of remorse, but he was far too angry to address or even link with him right now.  Whereas the morning’s drive had been conducted in silence because of Jim’s rage at Blair’s would-be attackers, this time the rage was centred on Blair himself, and Jim didn’t trust himself not to hurt his guide even more deeply with harsh words uttered as a result of his fear of losing Blair combined with his anger at the young man for setting up the whole sorry mess.

Pulling into the parking garage, Jim turned into his usual spot and switched off the engine before turning to face the small figure huddled in the passenger seat, pressed against the window in an attempt to put as much space between them as possible. Hardening his heart against his natural desire to reach out and comfort his guide, he knew he wasn’t ready yet to forgive or even try to reason with his distraught partner, so he merely grunted before exiting the vehicle and striding around to the passenger door to pull Blair somewhat unceremoniously out of the cab to usher him up to the SCD bullpen.  During the short trip, the hard-faced sentinel marched determinedly ensuring that the guide kept up by means of the possessive arm thrown around his shoulders.  Too upset and scared of possible retaliation, Blair kept his mouth shut also, simply praying that this would soon be over, and that Jim would forgive him, because the empath within couldn’t bear the thought of living in such disharmony for any length of time.

On arrival at the SCD’s floor, Blair was taken to an interview room to give his statement while Jim and Simon watched from the adjoining observation room. Despite his simmering annoyance, Jim was glad that it was Megan who was conducting the interview, as she had already made it clear that she had a soft spot for Sandburg, and was guaranteed to handle him gently and sympathetically.  As they watched and waited, Simon informed Jim that Rosie had opted to give her statement to one of the officers at the scene rather than leave the shelter to come downtown.  There wasn’t much she could add anyhow, having only seen a small, if decisive part of the action, but he suggested that she would undoubtedly be an interesting source of background information as regards Sandburg’s past should Jim want to investigate further.  Eyebrow raised quizzically, Jim offered his boss a grim half-smirk as he answered.

“I don’t think so, Simon. Even though I admit I over-reacted to her touching Blair back there, I know she meant him no harm.  Far from it!  It was me she accused of brutality.  She obviously thought I was going to hurt him, and even after Sandburg tried to explain, I could tell she didn’t trust me.  Like Blair told me earlier, his Mom Naomi thought the same way.  They both hate us ‘jackbooted thug’ types for what we represent, so she’s hardly going to trust me with secrets about Blair’s past.  And as for claiming him, I might as well have clapped him in irons before her very eyes, because sure as hell she’s the type who still believes that being a bonded guide is tantamount to being a slave.”

“I guess you’re right Jim, although it still irritates the shit out of me that there are so many folks out there who think the same way. Not that we can really blame them after all the upheaval and uncertainty of the last few years.  Still hurts, though.

“Anyhow, it looks like Megan’s done, and Sandburg looks like he’s running on fumes. If you’re finished here, take him home, and I’ll call you tomorrow with a progress report.  Not that I think you’ll have any problems, Jim.  It was a righteous shoot for sure.  I saw everything anyway, and I’m certain even Ms Wilkins would have wanted you to protect her friend.  On the other hand, I still need time to consider both your positions in this department, so I’m giving you a few more days to work things out between you.”

“Fair enough, Captain,” Jim replied with a sigh of resignation. “Speak to you tomorrow, sir,” and he turned to leave the room, to gather up his shaky partner and take him back to his territory.

Watching their departing backs, Simon could only hope that Jim would somehow find the patience to deal tactfully with his guide. Sure, Simon would have loved to ream the young man out some more himself, but he could tell that the kid was barely holding it together so it would have benefitted neither of them.  On the other hand, he wasn’t entirely certain that Jim possessed the necessary sympathy to handle the jittery guide.  Yep, one could only hope….

\----------------------------------

**Back at the loft:**

Blair shuffled tiredly into the loft and stood uncertainly in the centre of the lounge space, swaying with fatigue but unsure of whether he could safely take refuge in the corner of one of the comfy sofas. The ride back had been tense once again, and they had yet to exchange a word apart from one or two curt directives from Jim.  All in all, Blair had had more than enough.  He was hungry, exhausted and downright miserable; tears of frustrated hurt and pain lurking just beneath the surface, ready and waiting for him to give in to his despair.

And still Jim refused to speak to him, or even look at him with anything other than stiff-necked displeasure. He had even closed off their link, so there was no comfort or reasoning to be had that way.  The guide felt bereft and outcast, and it was killing him. 

But underneath it all, a slow-burning ember of defiance and resentment was kindled, ready to burst into flame as Blair’s core of inner strength fought back. Yes, he admitted that he’d been stupid.  Had unwittingly caused the death of his ex-employer and tormentor, and might have imperilled both Jim and Rosie by his actions – something which he accepted would have been unforgivable if it had come to pass.

But on the other hand, if Jim had been reasonable, had accepted his need to touch base with his old friends, he would never have had to go to such extreme lengths in the first place. He could have gone in daylight, maybe even with Jim watching from a distance to make sure he was safe.  It wasn’t _all_ his fault, dammit!

Giving himself a little shake, he straightened his shoulders and raised his head to look at Jim, forcing himself to meet and hold the frowning glare. Oblivious to the tears that were finally released to roll unhindered down his pale cheeks, he addressed his sentinel, voice deep and raw with emotion.

“So, Jim. How long am I to be punished?  I know I did wrong, and I’m sorrier than I can say – which you’d realise if you’d link with me again.  But I would never have done it.  I’d never have tried to trick you if you’d been reasonable.  But no!  It’s been barely a week, but I’ve learned already that as far as you’re concerned, it’s ‘my way or the highway’!   So, what’s it to be?  Do you break the bond and sling my ass in jail after all?  What do you _want,_ Oh Great Sentinel?  Are you going to hit me?” and he strode purposefully over to get right up in Jim’s space, raw defiance mixed with the misery and determination suffusing his tear-stained features.

Taken aback at the start of his guide’s impassioned speech, Jim found his fury and indignation growing as Blair landed punch after verbal punch. _How dare he? How dare he think that I don’t want him – don’t need him?  Why would I be acting like this if I didn’t care?  Arrogant little shit!_ And as Blair stepped into his personal space he roared as he raised his fist to strike, his rage at Blair’s disobedience and his terror at his guide’s cavalier attitude to his own safety fuelling the blow.

However, a fraction before his fist landed, he really looked at the young face so close to him, taking in the tremulous desperation and soul-deep anguish beneath the superficial bravado. Lowering his fist slightly, he finally opened their link – and was nearly floored by the emotions that immediately flooded his mind.  A heart-felt apology, a craving for forgiveness, love, hope and despair flowed from his guide, and the link ensured that every thought and feeling was honest.  And Jim was powerless to prevent his own reactions from entering his guide’s mind: fear, anger and frustration uppermost, but beneath those transitory feelings, a love so profound he would do anything – go anywhere – to ensure his beloved guide’s survival.  And Blair reciprocated with all the love of which he was capable.

Moments later, Blair felt himself enfolded in powerful but loving arms as his sentinel whispered gentle words of love, understanding and forgiveness into his ear. And as Blair wrapped his arms around Jim, clinging on for all he was worth, the bond flared between them such that Jim lifted his guide and carried him over to their bed, where he made gentle but passionate love to him for as long as the guide’s exhaustion allowed.  And in the drowsy aftermath, the pair relaxed bonelessly as they came to a mutual understanding: Sentinel and Guide had survived their first major trial, and were ready to confront their future together, given the chance.

\-----------------------------------------

**Part 5: Building bridges:**

Despite the healing bonding of the previous night, there was still a certain amount of residual tension to be worked out between Jim and Blair, although both men were prepared to put in the effort to remedy the situation. After all, their partnership was still very new, and having been formed under difficult circumstances in the first place, it was hardly surprising that such a harsh test so early in their relationship would leave a few as yet unresolved issues.  As far as Bair was concerned, he had learned a valuable lesson in trust.  From the outset, Jim had sworn never to hurt his guide physically, and that had proved to be the case even under extreme provocation.  The realisation was a true eye-opener for Blair, since in recent years he had come to accept such punishment as inevitable, whether deserved or not.  He also realised that when Jim acted like a dictatorial martinet towards Blair, it was out of care, and a deeply ingrained need to protect the guide.  And Jim had sheepishly agreed that while his recent behaviour was way over the top, he would try to exercise more tact and restraint in future.  After all, he had never had reason to practice moderation before, never having had a guide to cherish and protect.

And Blair knew very well that he had acted thoughtlessly, having assumed that Jim would be no better than the other alpha males he had had the misfortune to interact with during his stint under the Party’s control despite the evidence of their bond. He realised that such cynicism was deeply undesirable, and a learned behaviour rather than a natural state of mind for him. The harsh lessons in survival learned over the past few years had taken a toll on his innate cheerfulness and optimism, but although the effects could never be completely erased, he determined to try and regain as much of his old self as humanly possible, with Jim’s help and support.

As far as Jim was concerned, he had also had a lesson in trust, but it was trust in himself and his own instincts, at least as far as his guide was concerned. He knew that as a sentinel he was programmed to behave in certain ways, but he realised that he needed to learn how to control and modify extreme reactions, and the way to do that was to believe in himself.  He had to believe that he could safely confide in and link with Blair under any circumstances, and only harm and misunderstanding could come of shutting his guide out of his thoughts.

With such a lot to process, both men were a little awkward and overly sensitive in their interactions and conversation during the early part of the morning, but the atmosphere lightened perceptibly as they gradually relaxed and became more comfortable both with themselves and with each other. They had reached the stage where they were cuddled together on the sofa, Blair tucked snugly under Jim’s arm and simply enjoying each other’s presence when Jim’s comm band pinged softly, warning him of an incoming call.  As Blair peered inquisitively up at him, he sighed a little resignedly as he mouthed, “Simon – better answer it.”

“Good morning, sir. What can I do for you, Captain?”

“Morning to you too, Ellison. How’re you two getting on?  Have you reached an understanding yet?”

Smiling softly down into Blair’s wide blue gaze, Jim replied, “Yes, sir. We’re good.  Or at least, we’re definitely getting there.”

“Good. That’s good, Jim.  Just what I needed to hear.  Anyhow, I’m calling regarding a couple of issues, both concerning you two, so listen up.  And I’m sure Sandburg is close enough to listen in, am I right?”

And Jim couldn’t help but chuckle at his boss’ comment, especially when Blair made a comical face and cupped a hand to his ear in an exaggerated listening pose.

“That you are, sir. So, what’s up?”

“First off, Jim, I wanted to let you know that those two clowns who tried to attack Sandburg have been demoted and transferred from the SCD to traffic duty. I would have preferred they be dismissed altogether, but with the personnel situation as it is at the moment, the Chief decided that we couldn’t afford to let them go.  They’ll be under strict surveillance, though, until they either prove themselves trustworthy or completely unsuitable.  And I for one think the latter is inevitable, but there you go.  It’s out of my hands now, unfortunately.

“Anyhow, on a lighter note, Internal Affairs have cleared you for the shooting – and so they should. As I thought, with me witnessing the whole thing and Ms Wilkins agreeing that it was the only option, you’re reinstated with immediate effect.  Funny thing, though.  No one’s come forward to claim Starshewski’s body.  No family members or Party representatives, so I guess they’re publically washing their hands of him, huh?  Just goes to show that even their own are ultimately disposable.”

“Got to say I’m not surprised, sir. But it’s good news about IA.  And it’s good to know that Rosie Wilkins relented enough to admit I did what had to be done.  Although I’m sure she still doesn’t like me!” and Jim grinned wryly down at Blair, who frowned in mock indignation and poked him in the ribs with a sharp finger.

“So, can we come back to work, sir?” and Jim couldn’t hide the hopefulness in his tone.

There was a noticeable pause, during which both Jim and Blair began to grow uneasy, but eventually Simon sighed gustily and replied.

“Yes, Jim. I’m still not 100% sure I’m doing the right thing, but I need you.  The SCD needs its sentinel back, and with Sandburg’s back-up.  Thing is, it’s only three days until the pre-election gathering at City Hall, and we need all the help we can get to keep a lid on the situation.  Your senses will be invaluable keeping track of potential friction, so this is how we’ll play it.  You two take the rest of today to really get back on an even keel, then report in tomorrow.  We have a final briefing set for 0800 hours, so I’ll see you then.

“And tell Sandburg I’m glad he’s OK,” Simon added gruffly, then terminated the call before either man could respond.

Jim looked down into his guide’s wide and slightly shiny blue eyes and smiled gently.

“Well, Chief, it looks like we’re back in business,” and he quickly enfolded the smaller man in his arms when Blair threw himself at his sentinel with a soft sob of relief and happiness.

\-----------------------------------------------

**Following morning, SCD conference room:**

Jim looked down at the young man fairly bouncing at his side, a fond smile lighting his eyes. Blair had been understandably anxious on the drive to the SF HQ, but like Jim, had been greatly relieved at the welcome – or rather, lack of it – that the pair had received on entering the building.  There may have been a few slight undercurrents of displeasure at their arrival, but it appeared that lessons had been learnt following the demotion of Blair’s attackers, so no one was going to risk either the sentinel’s wrath, or that of their superiors.  Instead, they were generally greeted with casual acceptance and mild curiosity at most; a more than satisfactory state of affairs as far as both men were concerned.  And as soon as they had entered the SCD bullpen, Blair was given no reason to doubt the genuine pleasure and warmth he could feel emanating from most of Jim’s colleagues.  Even Rafe unbent enough to pat him on the shoulder and offer a small smile of welcome, which earned him a wide grin of real delight.  And that as much as anything went a long way to bridging the distance between the two.

Joel and Megan both hugged him, and although Megan scolded him for giving them such a scare, Blair could feel her real concern for him as he offered her a blushing apology.

“No worries, Sandy, but don’t do it again, you daft bugger!” she admonished him gently before planting a smacker of a kiss on his heated cheek.

H slapped him energetically between the shoulder blades, nearly sending him flying as he chuckled heartily. “Good to see you back, Hairboy!  Looks like Jimbo has his work cut out keeping up with you, eh?” and he nudged a scowling Jim in the ribs.   However, both men knew there was no insult intended – it was just H’s way.

Simon had arrived then and ushered the team into the conference room to begin the briefing, but even he had paused to nod affably in Blair’s direction, to be almost undone by the radiant smile he received in response. Coughing to cover up his momentary distraction, he growled, “OK, then, people.  Let’s get this show on the road.”

\--------------------------------------------

Some while later the meeting broke up and everyone present had been given plenty to think about as they dispersed. Although they had attended previous meetings where the general plan of action had been hammered out, this time they were provided with the most recent information and their superiors’ final decisions.  Simon had apprised them of the number of attendees expected, which were considerable, and also the nature of the individuals making up the assembly.  As expected, there were candidates representing all sides of the political spectrum, plus their entourages, and also a large number of Cascade’s great and good from amongst business and social circles; there no doubt to either offer support to their chosen party or bask in the media spotlight, or both.  Each prospective candidate would be given the opportunity to deliver a short speech outlining their proposed campaign and objectives in advance of the campaign proper, so numbers would also include selected media representatives to report on the proceedings.  All in all, as far as Simon and the SCD were concerned, the whole event had the potential to spark heated debates and altercations at the very least, all of which meant that the security team would have to be on high alert from the get-go.

The blueprints of City Hall had been produced so that every operative could familiarise him or herself with their specified patrol areas, and Jim wasn’t surprised to see that he and Blair had drawn the section most difficult to cover, the area immediately surrounding the podium where all the candidates and major players would be gathered once the speeches got underway. As Simon remarked, Jim would need to use his senses to the best of his ability, which meant that he expected Blair to be on hand at all times to guide and ground his sentinel.   Although aware of the heavy burden of responsibility such an order created for a relatively inexperienced guide, Blair was still proud to be included in the team, and was mindful of the trust Simon had placed in him.

Because of the size and nature of the venue, there would of course be a need for many more personnel than those available from the SCD alone, so reinforcements would be drawn from other departments as appropriate to make up the numbers for more mundane duties.

Simon’s final words still rang in their ears as Jim and Blair and their colleagues returned to their desks. “OK then, people.  That’s everything I can tell you for now, although obviously I’ll advise you immediately if there are any further developments.  You have 24 hours to clear your desks as much as possible, and to prepare yourselves for this assignment.  Please bear in mind that if all goes to plan, this could be the first real step in a return to a working democracy, so don’t let me down.  I expect you all to be in place at City Hall at 0830 hours on Saturday.  Dismissed.”

\-----------------------------------

**Saturday, City Hall, Cascade:**

Standing in the main hall, Jim surveyed the scene, taking careful note of all the preparations going on around him. His hand rested lightly on Blair’s shoulder, and he could feel the slight tremors coursing through the slender body as his guide vibrated with excitement.  Although understandably somewhat anxious, Blair was buzzed, fizzing with nervous energy as he psyched himself up to work alongside Jim on his first official assignment.

“You OK, Chief?” Jim asked quietly, squeezing the shoulder beneath his hand.

“Yeah, I’m fine, honestly, Jim. Just excited, you know?  I mean, I’m so totally back into my anthro mind-set, man!  All this activity and stage-setting already – and just wait until the main event really gets going!  I’m thinking there’s going to be a whole lot of sabre-rattling and verbal chest beating going on!  A tribal gathering only on a bigger scale,” and he grinned mischievously up to meet Jim’s faintly bemused gaze.

“Glad you’re interested in it, kiddo, because I can’t say it does a lot for me. But then again, I’ve heard a lot of it before, and I’ve never found it to be particularly convincing.  Just rhetoric and hot air.  Guess I’m just an old cynic at heart.  Just as long as you don’t get so enthralled by the verbal sparring that you forget about me!”

Suddenly sombre, Blair reached up to grip Jim’s bicep. “Never happen, man, I promise.  This is my big chance to prove that yours and Simon’s trust in me is well-founded.  I don’t want anything to screw things up for us.”

Jim smiled fondly at Blair’s sincere words. “I know you won’t Chief.  Just yanking your chain.  Come on.  Let’s check out the back of the podium.  I want to find the best places for observation,” and he placed a warm palm at his guide’s lower back as he steered him through the throng of technicians and caterers finishing up their last-minute preparations.

Despite his professional focus as he surveyed the scene in minute detail, yet Jim still managed to spare his partner an assessing glance as he stood quietly now, ready and waiting for Jim’s directions. Blair certainly made an attractive picture, dressed as he was once more in a well-fitting, official coverall.  This time though there was a small gold insignia adorning the brown collar, denoting his status as an official SCD guide, and Jim smiled briefly as he recalled the young man’s real pride and joy when Simon had pinned it on him just this morning.  The long silky curls were tied back in a neat ponytail, and he had carefully refrained from wearing any jewellery today to underline how seriously he was taking his responsibility.  Indeed, the progress he had made over the previous 24 hours had been nothing short of astonishing to Jim, and to Simon also, not that the big captain would have admitted it out loud.

As Jim had no open cases requiring specific action, he had used the intervening time between the briefing and the assignment to work with Blair, familiarising the young man with various basic procedures both technical and physical. As he had suspected, Blair proved to be more than adept when it came to IT skills, and within a very short time he was flying through the programmes, fingers flicking and touching as he manipulated the screen of Jim’s workstation with consummate ease.  For the remaining time, he and Jim worked on Jim’s senses, both men thrilled with the results at even this early stage in their working partnership.  As he had hoped, Jim found that with Blair’s grounding presence and instinctive guidance, his senses’ range was already vastly improved, and his control far more precise.  And Blair was just relieved that he could live up to Jim’s expectations, his lack of formal training notwithstanding.

And when they had curled up together for a few hours’ much needed sleep, they drifted off after a short and gentle but very satisfying bonding session feeling at one with each other and ready for the challenge ahead.

\----------------------------------

Having finished his initial sweep, Jim beckoned to Joel and Megan who were doing their own sweep at the other side of the main hall; the area which included the main door from the atrium and the entrance to the side room where the buffet lunch would be served. H and Rafe had been assigned the upper gallery where most of the administration offices were situated, aided by a couple of junior detectives from another division, while Lt Mainwaring, as a tactical expert was in overall charge of the uniformed personnel assigned to general guard duties and outside security.

Seeing Megan and Joel approaching, Jim walked towards them, hand resting comfortably at Blair’s waist as they met in the middle of the room.

“How’s it going, guys? Got it covered, you think?” he enquired amicably, sure in his own mind that if anyone could perform to Banks’ exacting requirements, it would be these two.

“I think so, Jim,” Joel replied, with a genial smile for both men. “Megan’s going to circulate around the buffet area, while I keep an eye on the entrance.  We’ll have a couple of patrolmen checking everyone’s invitations again at the door even though there’ll be a full security scan as folks arrive, so there shouldn’t be any nasty surprises.  Unless you count the Party politicians, that is,” and his pleasant features twisted in an unaccustomed frown.

“Yeah, you got that right, love,” added Megan with a sour grimace. “Since I’ll be busy tooling around the anteroom and buffet area at least I won’t have to listen to those pompous drongos mouthing off.  I just have to watch them stuffing their faces and gassing amongst themselves afterwards,” and she chuckled grimly at the others’ sympathetic nods and murmured concurrence.

Although still a little shy, Blair spoke up anyway, hoping he wasn’t about to get laughed at. “Um, any idea what order they’re likely to speak in?  I mean, I guess there must be an official programme, but I haven’t seen it.  I’m just, you know, interested?”

“No worries, Sandy,” replied Megan with a grin. “It’s nice to know that someone has a more intellectual take on the proceedings than us cops.  And just because it’s you, I’m prepared to surrender the programme I swiped off the kiosk in the atrium,” and she produced the leaflet from her purse with a flourish.

Taking it from her with a blinding smile, Blair thanked her profusely, his innocent delight earning him fond reciprocating grins all round.

Just then, their individual comm bands pinged simultaneously. “Heads up, people, the guests have started to arrive,” and the serious business of the day began.

\----------------------------------------

In a remarkably short time, the hall had filled with people and Blair was fascinated to observe the very different reactions the various groups exhibited. Although sticking close to Jim as the sentinel made his rounds, continuously checking for anything unexpected or out of the ordinary, he couldn’t help but draw his own conclusions as to the likely success of the event.  It was very obvious that the groups representing opposing but readily recognised factions were at least polite to each other however much their policies differed, but the large group surrounding the newly-arrived Party candidates were conspicuously cold-shouldered by all but the more thick-skinned media types who pushed themselves forward in order to get the most out of the unprecedented opportunity to see the controversial candidates up close and personal for the first time under legitimate circumstances.

Not that it seemed to bother the Party representatives at all. The whole band surveyed their fellow campaigners with barely-concealed disdain, and Blair knew that Jim was picking up on a lot of negative comments from within the ranks of their supporters.  And it was also noticeable to all the security personnel if to no one else that many of the ‘supporters’ looked more like gangland minders than political administrators and assistants.  Nevertheless, despite the noticeable tension in the air, the attendees continued to circulate without any real aggression while they waited for the formal proceedings to begin.

Another facet that piqued Blair’s interest was the way the politicos interacted with the businessmen and socialites who were also present in reasonable numbers. Plainly selected for either their acumen or influence, or both, Blair noted which ones were prepared to at least approach the Party men, and which avoided them altogether.  And he also noted a few who seemed to actively encourage contact and conversation.  It occurred to him that those individuals might warrant closer observation by the Security Forces, and he turned to ask Jim’s opinion, suspecting that Jim was thinking along the same lines.  However, his query died in his throat as he realised that Jim was staring at a man who was pushing his way towards them, a purposeful expression on his face.  Jim’s own expression was studiedly neutral, although the muscle jumping in his cheek was an indication of how hard he was clenching his jaw in the fight to maintain his equilibrium.

Touching Jim’s arm, Blair looked up at his partner worriedly, the empath well able to discern the seething antipathy beneath Jim’s apparently unconcerned demeanour. “Jim man, what is it?” he murmured, only to be shut down as Jim hissed, “Not now, Chief!” and the sentinel gently but firmly pushed Blair behind him in a protective gesture as he stepped forward to meet the other man.

“Hello, Dad. Guess I’m not really surprised to see you here.”

Even as Blair’s eyes rounded in open astonishment, he registered how frigid Jim’s tone became as he addressed his father. The father he’d never mentioned to Blair, and who had escaped Blair’s notice even during bonding.

“I’m not surprised to see you here either, Jimmy. I expected a conspicuous SCD presence here today, and they would hardly omit their very own sentinel, now would they?  Especially as I hear that you have now managed to acquire a guide after all this time.  Aren’t you going to introduce me?” and the other man smiled politely, even though it didn’t reach his eyes, which remained cold and calculating as they flicked between Jim and the smaller figure now almost hidden behind Jim’s back.

Peering around Jim’s rigid shoulder, Blair covertly studied Jim’s father, his curiosity overcoming his instinctive wariness. Ellison Senior looked to be in his early sixties, maybe an inch or two shorter than his son.  Straight-backed, tan and fit, his figure was impressive if not overly muscled, and there was an arrogant tilt to his head that suggested he was well-used to the trappings of wealth and respect that were the rewards of a successful businessman.

However, there was no suggestion of any softness or affection in the way he was regarding his son, and Blair couldn’t quite suppress a shiver of unease when the cold eyes turned on him. Quickly dipping his shields, he ‘read’ the other man’s reactions towards him, slamming them shut again as he almost physically flinched at the overt curiosity, disgust and near-hatred rolling over him.  Jim was quick to pick up on his discomfort though and reached behind him to pull Blair around and into his side, his arm wrapped possessively around the smaller man’s waist.  Icily polite, he spoke firmly as he held his father’s gaze.

“Dad, may I introduce my guide and life partner, Mr Blair Sandburg. Blair, this is Mr William Ellison of Ellison Enterprises.  My father,” and he snapped his jaw shut, biting off the words as if they offended him.  Which it seemed to Blair that they probably did.  He automatically disregarded the reference to his being Jim’s life partner, simply assuming that it was intended to aggravate the older man and nothing more.  It certainly seemed to have the desired effect, anyway.

Determined not to embarrass Jim by acting like some jittery wuss, even if he felt like one, Blair held his hand out politely and said, “Very pleased to meet you, sir,” and was pretty proud and relieved that his voice sounded reasonably steady and didn’t emerge as a nervous squeak.

However, the older Ellison was saved from having to respond when the Mayor stepped up to join them and clapped William’s shoulder in a friendly gesture.

“Sorry to intrude, gentlemen, but we’re about to get the ball rolling. I’d like you to accompany me, if you don’t mind, Bill.  I may need you to qualify a couple of points as I make my opening speech,” and he smiled at them all, confident of their instant acquiescence.

With faint but still obvious relief, William grinned at his friend, the smile actually reaching his eyes this time as he said heartily, “Of course, Harry! No problem at all!  I know Jimmy won’t mind, as he needs to concentrate on his job after all.  Good day, son.  Um, Mr Sandburg…” and he turned away, already dismissing them as he accompanied the Mayor to the podium.

Letting out the breath he hadn’t even realised he was holding, Blair glanced up at his partner as he caught Jim’s near-silent comment. “Asshole!  Still the same old cold-blooded bastard!”

“You OK, man?” Blair whispered softly, squeezing Jim’s forearm as he peered worriedly up into his sentinel’s face, not liking the anger and hatred that hardened the handsome features, making them appear as if they were chiselled from marble.

After a few awkward seconds, Jim gave himself a shake, and glanced down into Blair’s anxious face, smiling grimly in self-deprecation. “Sorry about that, Chief.  I had thought the old bastard might be here, but I’d hoped that he wouldn’t deign to speak to me, which has been the case for years now, ever since I left home under a cloud.  Guess he couldn’t help himself though.  Just had to see for himself that I’d actually succeeded in finding a guide.  I’m sorry he was so rude to you, kiddo.   I’d ‘ve loved to knock him on his ass for treating you like that.”

“It’s OK, man, really. I don’t blame him after all.  I’m hardly anyone’s idea of respectable guide material am I?” and he chuckled ruefully.

“Then anyone would be wrong, baby! Come on, we have work to do…” and Jim smiled briefly again as he squeezed Blair’s waist, turning them both to take up their position near the podium after making another quick circuit of the area.

\------------------------------

By the time the meeting broke for lunch, the principle mainstream candidates had had their say, and the majority of the gathering drifted towards the buffet, some actually discussing the subject matter of the speeches they had heard thus far. The principal Party candidate had been allotted a slot at very nearly the end of the list – a barely-disguised effort on the organisers’ part to imply their dislike of the upstart quasi-respectable delegation – so he would get his chance to speak in the afternoon session.

Jim and Blair moved with the crowd towards the anteroom, ever alert, but intending to touch base with Joel and Megan as they added their presence to the watchers in the immediate area. H and Rafe had already checked in, copying Simon and the rest of the team into their communication, and had nothing untoward to report from their patrol area around the upper gallery.  As the other teams checked in in sequence, both from inside the building and out on the perimeter, it seemed that thus far there had been nothing more worrying than a minor pushing incident between a couple of antagonistic personal assistants who objected to each other’s opinions; something that was easily contained by their own colleagues.

Helping themselves to a few items from the buffet, and deftly avoiding the spot where the Mayor was holding court with several VIPs including William Ellison in close attendance, Jim and Blair continued their sweep of the room even as they nibbled at their snacks.

“You OK, man?” Blair murmured, concerned that Jim would be suffering from the strain of unrelenting vigilance. “Do you need to dial back for a while?  Things look pretty cool at the moment, right?  I mean, maybe it’d be an idea to take a break before the afternoon session, because if there’s going to be an uproar, it’ll most likely be during the Party guy’s speech don’t you think?”

Smiling at his guide’s honest concern, Jim ruffled his hair gently as he considered his reply.

“I think you probably have a point, Chief. Gotta say my head’s not too bad, thanks to your presence, babe.  It’s really soothing, you know?  But then again, perhaps I’ll just take five anyway, because I think you’re right.  Those bozos are going to stir up some shit for sure once their guy opens his sleazy mouth.  The bastard used to be an ambulance-chasing lawyer, so he’s got the lingo down pat.”  So saying, he carefully lowered each sense to just below normal, and Blair was glad to see the faint lines of strain on Jim’s brow ease as the big man took a deep, relaxing breath.

“Much better. Let’s get back into position before this bun-fight breaks up, because for sure this is the part of the proceedings which is going to draw the biggest crowd. For better or for worse, people really want to know just what the Party candidates have to say for themselves.”

“You got that right, Jim,” Blair concurred with a wry grimace. “Nothing like a good dose of controversy to whet everyone’s appetite!”

Just then, Simon moved up to intercept them, a look of intense concentration on his face. Dressed immaculately in a formal suit, he had been cruising around amongst the gathering, acting as a liaison and representative of the SCD and Security Forces in general.  Although he claimed to loath the schmoozing and verbal tap-dancing, he was very good at it, hence his highly-respected standing with the Chief of Cascade Security.

“Hey, Captain. How’s it going?” Jim asked with a wry grin.  “You look a bit frazzled around the edges.  Company getting to you?”

“Not really, Jim, although I gotta say the constant need for tact and diplomacy is a pain in the ass. No, there’s something else more pressing I have to clue you in on.  I’ll be letting the rest of the inside team know as soon as, but of necessity, Lt Mainwaring has already been brought up to speed so he can strengthen the guards around the building’s perimeter and entrances.”  Unsurprised to see the quizzical expressions on both men’s faces, he hurried on.

“I’m sorry not to have been able to warn you before, but this was on a purely need-to-know basis, and very few people here are in the picture for good reason. In about an hour, once the afternoon session’s well underway, we can expect a visit from a senior Northern Alliance Central Government rep.  Councillor Everett is coming to monitor the proceedings on their behalf so they can get an idea of how the Party candidate is received and also get an inkling of the likely support he can expect to gain in the elections proper.  Not surprising, really.  It’s worrying for all of us in the long term.

“Anyhow, he’ll be arriving with his own contingent of personal bodyguards, but all of you will have to be prepared to deal with the additional disruption their arrival’s bound to cause and be extra alert. Like I say, I’m sorry I wasn’t allowed to tell you all at the outset, but it’s the reason why the SCD was tasked with setting up security in the first place.  The Mayor insisted on the best he could get, and that means my top teams.

“So, there it is. But I want you to know that I have complete confidence in you all.  It wasn’t my choice to keep you in the dark,” and there was a definite note of apology in his tone and expression as he studied both men.  He wasn’t surprised to see a flash of irritation cross Jim’s handsome features, but Sandburg merely looked resigned.  And perhaps a little hurt also?

However, this was neither the time nor the place for a prolonged discussion, and his reasoning wasn’t up for analysis by his subordinates anyway, so he merely nodded briskly and turned away to make his way over to Joel and Megan to bring them up to speed.

Jim watched his departing back for a long moment, eyes narrowed and lips thinned in displeasure, but then let out a long sigh as he turned to look down to meet Blair’s concerned gaze, his expression now one of wry acceptance.

“Right then, Chief. So much for taking five, huh?  We’d best get into place pronto.”

“Sure Jim. Looks like the first few folks are on the move, so I’m good to go.”  As Jim nodded in assent and ushered his guide forward, his hand once more resting easily at Blair’s waist, Blair glanced up at him again, a somewhat anxious smile curving the generous lips as he continued a little diffidently, “Um, are you really annoyed at Captain Banks for keeping you in the dark?  I mean, I’m surprised that he didn’t at least tell his most senior people.  Like you, Megan, Joel, H and Rafe? 

“Then again, I guess he had to be absolutely certain there’d be no leaks…” and he turned to face front again, a faint bitterness colouring his normally pleasing tone and souring his scent.

Jim stopped dead in his tracks, then pulled Blair around to face him after moving a little to one side where a large pillar offered them a modicum of privacy. He knew exactly where his guide was coming from, and he intended to set him straight.  Giving him a little shake to ensure his full attention, Jim spoke quietly but forcefully, not wanting to attract unwanted eavesdroppers.

“Listen to me, babe, and listen good! Perhaps Banks _was_ playing safe by not telling me everything.  Maybe he doesn’t trust you fully yet not to let something slip, because for sure leaks aren’t unknown in the Security Forces, even in the SCD.  But he’s wrong.  I _do_ trust you, and I intend to do my utmost to prove it to him.  And the best way of doing that is to keep on doing the best we can with the jobs we’re given, even the shitty ones, OK?  So, let’s get to it, want to?”

And Blair just had to grin in response. “Thanks, Jim.  That means a lot to me.  It’s stupid of me to be so thin-skinned, because he has a huge amount of responsibility, and good reason to take precautions.  And if I’m honest, I should be grateful that he’s granted me as much credibility as he has considering the amount of trouble I’ve caused him already.

“So yeah, let’s go do this shitty job..!” and he chuckled along with his sentinel as they returned to take up a strategic position near the podium, where the first speaker of the afternoon was checking out his cue notes on his hand-held.

\----------------------------------------

It was around forty minutes later, just as the present speaker was winding down when a controlled but noticeable disturbance announced the arrival of Councillor Everett and his entourage. Heads turned to witness the spectacle, and the speaker – one of the lesser-known independent hopefuls – frowned in annoyance as he lost his audience’s attention.  Having detected the approaching cavalcade from some distance out, Jim had already alerted the rest of the inside security team, pre-empting even the official notification by a few precious seconds so they were ready and waiting for the new arrivals.  Face beaming with an almost convincing smile of welcome, the Mayor bustled to meet his guests, his predictable bevy of simpering sycophants in tow, (including the majority of hugely excited media representatives, it must be said) and followed at a more sedate pace by the more important – or self-important - dignitaries. 

Once more or less sincere greetings had been exchanged, appropriate introductions made, and the area checked out by Everett’s bodyguards with a passable attempt at discretion, the audience settled once more to pay attention to the final speakers; the last of whom would be Digby Claybourne, the Party’s candidate.

The vast majority of those present now crammed into the area around the podium, their attention totally focussed now on the upcoming speeches. Behind the seating reserved for the great and good, there was standing room only for the media and lesser mortals, so Blair kept up a continuous murmur of soothing nonsense as he stroked Jim’s arm, simply to help keep his sentinel grounded as he knew Jim was concentrating with everything he had on gathering the maximum amount of information of which his senses were capable.

And suddenly Jim reached back and seized Blair’s forearm in a painful grip as he dragged his guide into a shallow alcove away from the crowd, his face grey and strained as his eyes bored into Blair’s shocked blue gaze.

“There’s a bomb, Chief! I’m certain of it.  Close by – close enough to blow these clowns to smithereens!  Help me, Blair.  I need to concentrate!  We don’t have much time!”

“Jeez, Jim! Are you sure?  I mean, of course you are…sorry…but what do you have?  Is it scent, hearing, what?”

“Both, babe, and I’m not sure why I didn’t pick up on it before, unless it’s only just been put in position. Thing is, I’m sure it’s somewhere behind the wall beside the podium, and I’m equally sure there was no access to that area marked on the building’s plans that Simon showed us. So how the hell do we get in to defuse it?”

Despite his urgency, Jim was aware that his guide had flushed bright red, then gone very pale, sweat beading his brow as he nervously met Jim’s frowning gaze.

“Um, there _is_ access, Jim.  I mean, I know it for a fact.  Um…I’ve been here on shall we say _unofficial_ business before.  I’m sorry, Jim, but it’s true.  Link with me and you’ll see I’m telling the truth.”

Jaw clenched in worry and no little anger, Jim did as Blair asked, and was rewarded with a fleeting image of a slender figure, totally clothed in close-fitting black, easing through an almost invisible opening to access the empty wall space behind the podium.

Pulling back, Jim frowned at his guide, but this was no time to discuss exactly what the kid had been doing there.

“OK, Chief, I believe you. Now, can you get me in?  We have to act fast.”  At Blair’s nod of confirmation, he continued, “Right, then.  I’ll call Simon and let him know.  He has to start evacuating the building a.s.a.p.”

As he tapped his comm band, and relayed the information to his boss, he was relieved when Banks didn’t even query the truth behind Jim’s claim. Knowing he could leave it to Simon to coordinate the evacuation, he broke off communication before the captain could question his next movements because there was no time to organise and send in a bomb disposal team.  Jim and Blair had to get in there, and quickly, so that Jim could disarm the weapon himself.  Or not, as the case may be. 

As they hurried away from the main hall to locate the access point Blair had described, Jim spoke up, concern for his guide uppermost in his mind. “You OK with this, babe?  Just show me the way in, then get yourself to safety, OK?  I can do the honours once I’m in place.”

Terrified almost out of his mind yet Blair had no intention of leaving his sentinel’s side, come what may, and said as much.

“No way, man! I can get us in no problem, but I’m not leaving you.  What if you need grounding, huh?  I mean, it’s pretty dark and dirty in that wall space, man, and you don’t need distractions.  You’ll need me, Jim.  I’m staying!”

And Jim knew there was no point in arguing, so he just grinned gratefully as he turned his attention to the matter in hand. There would be time enough to debate Blair’s decision and possible self-sacrifice once the crisis was over.  He didn’t dare consider the alternative.

Swiftly crossing the marble floor of a vacant adjacent ante room, Jim and Blair were peripherally aware of muted fire alarms and the hurried but as yet reasonably controlled echo of many footsteps as the crowd of dignitaries, media personnel and ancillary staff obeyed the security guards’ instructions and directions to exit the building.

Dismissing that aspect of the situation from his thoughts Jim concentrated instead on his guide, watching carefully as Blair made his way unerringly to what appeared to be a closet on the far wall. Swiftly disengaging the lock, Blair opened the door and slipped inside, stepping around piles of boxes and cleaning equipment to reach the storage space’s back wall.  Although Jim’s sentinel sight meant that he had little difficulty negotiating the space, Blair had no such advantage, and was using the small light source built into his comm band.  As he ran his hands carefully over the wall’s surface, Jim immediately saw what his guide was showing him.  A barely visible outline of a small hatchway, just about big enough to allow a man of Jim’s stature to squeeze through.  Pressing three places simultaneously, Blair gave the hatch a slight push and it swung inward to reveal a dark, dusty and cobweb-strewn corridor, maybe four feet wide by five and a half feet tall.

“Sorry, big guy. You’ll have to duck,” Blair snickered with a backward glance.  “Follow me, and dial everything but sight back for now, OK?  Don’t want you coughing and sneezing – or itching,” and his smile softened as his eyes and expression conveyed nothing but concern and love for Jim.

“Thanks, Chief. Will do.  Lead the way!” and Jim hunched his shoulders, scrambling awkwardly along behind Blair’s retreating shape, his feeling of urgency growing exponentially as they approached where the explosive device had been placed.  Although it felt like a lifetime, it was actually only a couple of minutes before Blair ducked through an opening in the corridor to emerge in another closet-sized room, and Jim could easily see the surprisingly small object placed against the far wall.  All business now, he carefully dialled all his senses back up, nodding to Blair as he moved forward to approach the device, aware of and grateful for his guide’s presence as the smaller man moved up behind him, hand resting lightly on Jim’s back.

Jim released a small sigh of relief as he scanned the small object minutely, mainly because although potentially devastating, it appeared to be of a reasonably simple construction with no hidden booby traps. Whoever had planted the device must have felt confident that it would never be discovered in time – a supposition borne out by the fact that the LED display showed that there was less than fifteen minutes’ left on the clock – about the time when Digby Claybourne would have been starting his speech, and the vast majority of attendees would have been crowding into the area immediately around the podium.

Rubbing impatiently at the sweat beading his brow, Jim concentrated on isolating the detonator, peripherally aware of the soothing sound of Blair’s soft murmurs and gentle pats as he sought to ground his sentinel with voice and touch.

The explosive component of the device was a new generation of C4. A far deadlier version that was both infinitely more destructive and required a much smaller amount to do the job.  An explosive which should never have fallen into the hands of criminals.

Shoving such unhelpful thoughts aside, Jim ran sentinel-sensitive fingertips along the most promising wire, concentrating hard on what the evidence of his touch was telling him.

This was it. He was sure.  He _had_ to be sure, or the world would end for them in the next few seconds.  Sending a quick prayer to any sympathetic deity who might be listening, Jim grasped the wire firmly and pulled.

And the world didn’t end. The LED display stopped with twelve minutes and two seconds to go, and Jim fell back on his butt on the dirty floor, totally drained as his guide flopped down beside him, pressing close as his face tilted back, eyes closed and heart thundering in reaction.

Long moments later, Blair shifted a little to face Jim, still trembling with shock, but a little more together now.

“Oh man! That was…too much!  Thanks, Jim, for…for… _everything!_  You were wonderful, big guy.  Just wonderful!

“But please tell me, Jim. That wasn’t a typical day for you, was it?  I mean, was it?”  And Jim just had to grin slightly at the heart-felt plea and earnest expression suffusing Blair’s beautiful features.

In response, he simply winked and raised a sardonic eyebrow, almost cracking up when Blair moaned pitifully, “Oh man….”

\-----------------------------------------------

**Part 6: Work in Progress:**

**SCD bullpen, two days later:**

Jim and Blair entered the bullpen, nodding greetings to the other occupants, who grinned tiredly back. The two looked pretty exhausted themselves, as did everyone involved in the investigation in the aftermath of the attempted bombing, but also like everyone else, their mood was generally buoyant and upbeat.  The plot had been foiled after all, and progress had been made as a man had been charged with planting the device.  Now the lead investigators had to follow up on the information he had provided them with, which was considerable, and would have significant repercussions for a good many people.

With the building made safe, the Chief of Security had immediately ordered that everyone attending the meeting should be interviewed independently, role and social status notwithstanding, which involved a lot of manpower and effort. It meant that every available detective was drafted in to help, whether SCD or not.  Jim and Blair were swept up in the action almost as soon as they had gotten their breath back, but news had travelled fast regarding their achievement, and they were greeted as heroes on their return to the SF HQ by nearly all present.  Blair was still savouring the buzz as he worked tirelessly beside Jim, grounding and backing up his sentinel during the seemingly endless stream of interviews they had conducted over the past thirty six hours.

Despite the large numbers of interviewees involved, none of whom would be overlooked, the SCD caught a break surprisingly early in the proceedings, thanks to another sentinel investigator seconded to the department from the Forensics branch. Having been clued in by Jim on the type of explosive device used, she had concentrated on detecting any trace of residue from the components used on each individual she interviewed, primarily using her enhanced senses of smell and sight.  At only her fourth attempt she struck gold.

The unlucky interviewee turned out to be one of Marcus Kozinski’s lackeys, masquerading as one of the waiting staff. Stanislav ‘Stan’ Kaminski had snuck the weapon into position during the lunch break which was why Jim had failed to detect it during the morning session.   However, unsurprisingly there were minute traces of the explosive compound on his hands and clothing as well as dirt from the wall space which he hadn’t had time to completely wash off before being whisked downtown with the other catering personnel, and the other sentinel detective had picked up on it immediately. 

Jim was immediately summoned, and with Simon watching from the observation room, the two detectives continued to question the unfortunate man in tandem, putting him in fear of sentinel retribution and the maximum penalty permissible if he didn’t roll over and reveal all.

So he did.

Once started, Stan, who Blair vaguely recognised as one of Kozinski’s newer recruits brought in from the Armenian mafia, poured out everything he knew, and it was mind-boggling in its insolence and depravity.

On Kozinski’s orders, Stan had gotten himself hired by the bona fide catering company a couple of weeks before the event was scheduled, and was well settled by the time the big day arrived. He had volunteered to help during the setting up of the catering provisions, making sure he was on hand to receive the ‘late delivery’ of special-ordered items that had arrived on the day just before the lunch break. 

How the device had actually gotten through security without detection was something that would have to be looked into with some urgency, but that was an on-going part of the whole investigation.

Suffice it to say that, armed with detailed information about City Hall’s floor plans, Kaminski had slipped away from the kitchens through a previously unknown doorway which linked with the same secret corridor system Blair had accessed. It had taken him little time and effort to place the device in position and set the timer before making his way back to the kitchens.  It was pure bad luck that he had been intercepted before he could make his escape by the catering manager, who had delayed him long enough to be rounded up with the rest of the staff during the evacuation.

Horrifying as Stan’s information was, it was the motive behind the potential massacre that was the most shocking aspect, and Simon intended to brief Jim and Blair separately on their arrival that morning before updating the rest of his team because there were a couple of aspects involving Blair that the captain felt should be kept between them. Although usually a stickler for following procedure to the letter, in this case he assuaged his unease by telling himself that he owed it to Blair to hear his side of the story behind the source of the information that had enabled Jim to save the day, and the kid had more than proved his worth as Jim’s guide whatever Simon’s personal reservations.

Thus it was that, even before they could settle at their desks, Simon commanded his primary team’s presence in his usual forthright manner, yelling through his open office door, “Ellison! Guide Sandburg! My office – now!”

Exchanging wry glances, Jim and Blair changed direction and approached Banks’ office instead, Blair’s whispered but plaintive complaint eliciting a sardonic snigger from his partner.

“What did I do this time? We’ve only just arrived!  Jim…?” And Jim threw a supportive arm around his shoulders as he urged the smaller man forwards.

“Who knows, Chief? Who knows…?”

\------------------------------------------------

On entering the captain’s inner sanctum, Blair couldn’t quite keep his expression free of the nervousness he still felt in the big man’s presence, particularly because he was pretty sure he knew part of the reason for Banks’ request to see them in private. Quickly dipping his shields, he surreptitiously ‘read’ the other man’s emotions, relieved to find that, even though Simon’s curiosity and obvious impatience was tinged with irritation, it didn’t seem to be directed specifically at Blair.  Shooting his sentinel a reassuring grin when Jim squeezed his shoulder, eyebrow raised questioningly at his guide’s faint but still perceptible unease; Blair returned his attention to the captain.

Although as dapper as ever, Simon’s face bore the same evidence of fatigue as did his team. Always a man to lead by example, there was no way he would have taken it easy while his people worked almost without respite to follow up on such an important case, so he had snatched no more than a few hours’ sleep himself since the bomb’s discovery.

“Sit down, you two,” he rumbled, indicating the seats in front of his desk. “You look like I feel.  Did you manage to snatch a couple hours last night?  I’ve got a lot to tell you – a lot to discuss – so I hope you’re both alert enough to take it all in!”

“We’re fine, boss,” Jim replied for them both, patting Blair’s knee comfortingly as he spoke.

“We managed to grab a break in my quarters here at HQ. Enough to keep us going anyway…” and he broke off with a smile, eyes reflecting a moment of gentle reminiscence as he glanced at the young man at his side.  His boss certainly didn’t need to know about the almost frenzied bonding and lovemaking they had indulged in before succumbing to much-needed rest.  The closeness of potential disaster had ignited an urgent need to reconnect and reaffirm their relationship at the most fundamental level, and Jim had taken his guide with a passion that Blair had willingly reciprocated before falling into exhausted sleep in a tangle of limbs.

“OK then. Now before I tell you about what we’ve learned about the reasoning behind the bombing, I want to discuss the location of the device, and how it came to be chosen.”  He was immediately aware of Sandburg’s soft intake of breath at his words, and noted the brief ducking of the kid’s curly head before he raised his eyes to meet Simon’s again.  However, there was determination in the anxious blue eyes, and Simon couldn’t help but be impressed by the kid’s backbone.

“This is what we’ve pieced together so far, mostly from what Kaminski’s ‘fessed up. Apparently, way back when City Hall was constructed, a network of secret passages was included to act as both an escape route and/or hiding place for the city councillors and their families and the like in times of adversity.  As it happened, they were never needed, even during the previous civil war, so for some reason best known to himself, someone in TPTB at the time decided to amend the building’s blueprints discreetly to omit the passages, and they were pretty much forgotten.  However, it seems like rumours persisted – kind of like an urban legend – in some quarters, and someone in the Party decided to investigate further.

“And we think we know how. Is there something you’d like to tell me, Blair?”  To his credit, he kept his tone and attitude unthreatening, because not only did he not want to provoke Jim’s protective instinct, he was actually surprised to feel something similar himself where the young man was concerned; enough not to want to upset him unduly.

Blushing deeply, Blair bit his lip and avoided the captain’s assessing gaze for a long moment while he pulled himself together. After all, hadn’t he expected as much?  And since he didn’t want to upset Jim any more than the sentinel already was on his behalf, he straightened up in his seat and met Simon’s eyes again, patting the hand that rested on his knee reassuringly.

“Um, well, it’s true I didn’t know that background stuff before, Captain, but yes, I was instrumental in confirming the presence of the passage system, although I swear I had no idea as to the reason why it was wanted.  It was months ago, when I was still working for Sol Starshewski.  Someone in his cell had managed to put together a rough plan of where they thought the passages might be, and I was sent in one night to check them out.  To be honest, as far as I was concerned it was just another job.  I guess that, if I thought about it at all, I assumed it was just a scouting trip in advance of perhaps a burglary or something? A burglary that I’d no doubt end up doing anyway.  There’s plenty of valuable items and sources of information in there after all.  So once I’d gotten in and out, I gave Sol a detailed description, and that was that.  And the next week I was sent to the docks to spy on the new gang you arrested, and that’s all I know, I swear!”

Simon regarded him searchingly for a long moment, then sat back, nodding thoughtfully as he absorbed Blair’s words.

“OK, son. That squares with what I expected to hear, and for what it’s worth, I believe your assertion that you had no idea of the real motive behind your ‘investigation’.  Although I can’t condone your activities under Starshewski’s orders, any more than I suspect Jim does, I’m truly thankful that you had the pertinent information after all, and that you weren’t afraid to use it.  It goes without saying that without your input Jim would never have gotten to that bomb in time and a lot of innocent people would have died.

“And for that, kid, and for Jim’s bravery also, the Mayor wants to reward the pair of you with some sort of commendation. And I for one think that for once it’s well-earned.  So, congratulations in advance, guys,” and he grinned at their shell-shocked expressions, giving them a few minutes to come to terms with his announcement while he poured them all a cup of coffee from his private stash.

However, this was no time to linger on his good news, however well-deserved, so as soon as they were all settled once again, mugs of fragrant coffee in their hands, he continued with the more unpleasant topic of discussion.

“OK, to continue. I have to stress here that some of this is conjecture, but we’ve sifted through and discussed what material and circumstantial evidence we’ve collected thus far.  Anyhow, as far as we can make out – that is, yours truly, Chief McGinty and the Head of Councillor Everett’s personal protection team as well as the man himself – the probable reason for the bombing is simple enough, if depressingly apt.  It would appear that despite all the hoo-ha and fuss the Party’s head honchos have been making recently about being recognised as a legal political entity, they’re actually not in the least interested in the concept of democracy except insofar as they can hide behind and within the system while they gain enough power and support to get what they really want. 

“And according to what Kaminski has overheard on several occasions, what they really want is a dictatorship. A countrywide dictatorship under which they would seek to reunite the states in due course, except that it would be as one nation.  One nation under Party control.  And gods help us all and the rest of the planet if ever that should come to pass. 

“Anyhow, it would appear that the bombing was an audacious attempt to undermine the revitalised election campaign with Marcus Kozinski’s cell tasked with the job of planning and carrying it out. With so many political hopefuls destroyed in one go – including their own candidate who seems to have had no idea that he was expendable, poor schmuck – they would move in, all sympathy and concern for the people who had set such store by following democratic process.  They would offer to protect the public from ‘evil anarchists and radicals’ out of a sense of public duty as one of the strongest and most capable forces available.  And the fact that they had lost their own people would be proof that they weren’t implicated in perpetrating such an atrocity.  Poor Digby Claybourne and his entourage would be heralded as martyrs to the democratic cause, and no stone would go unturned to discover the fiends who murdered them and all the other innocents there.  They’ll undoubtedly have plenty of gullible scapegoats lined up and waiting to be ‘arrested’ and brought to justice for the good of the cause.  And also undoubtedly similar acts of sabotage would occur each time such gatherings took place, until the majority of the populace lost faith in perpetuating the myth of democracy and grew to depend on the Party’s protection.

“It’s a depressing scenario, gentlemen, but one which in this case was well and truly thwarted thanks to you. Their failure on this occasion may give them pause, at least on a local level, and give us all a little breathing space to prepare ourselves for the next round in this war.  Forewarned is forearmed, so if nothing else, it gives me hope.  Hope that we can win against all the odds, because as long as we have good people on our side, we can and will overcome.  I truly believe that.  I have to!

“And on that note, gentlemen, I’ll climb down from my pulpit and let you go. There’re still plenty of loose ends to tie up, so don’t be resting on your laurels yet!” and he chuckled wryly, back in character once again.

Thanking him sincerely if somewhat distractedly, having been given plenty to process, Jim and Blair left the office to be shaken once again when they were treated to a standing ovation by everyone in the bullpen.

\-------------------------------

While Jim and Blair had been ensconced with their boss, Joel – with Simon’s blessing – had quickly spread the word throughout the bullpen about Jim and Blair’s recommendation for an award. The amiable and gentle man had been extremely gratified by the overall response his news had elicited.  Even the most jaded of Jim’s – and particularly Blair’s – detractors found it in them to express some degree of genuine satisfaction, while others were positively jubilant.  Megan and H’s smiles could have illuminated a whole neighbourhood, while Rafe found himself honestly pleased for the pair; a condition that surprised him enormously. 

Halting in his tracks so suddenly that Jim bumped into his back, Blair stared in shock at the sea of faces before him, all grinning like loons and applauding loudly. Scanning his guide quickly, Jim knew that the young man was deeply moved.  Despite the practiced veneer of toughness and bravado, once you really got to know Sandburg, you found that he couldn’t hide his emotions worth shit, and Jim could easily discern the emotions roiling beneath the surface.  The kid’s eyes glinted with incipient tears and for a moment Jim worried that Blair might actually break down in front of everyone – something that would cause him no end of embarrassment later.  However, he needn’t have concerned himself, because the next second Blair’s face broke into a beaming smile – the trademark Sandburg grin guaranteed to cheer everyone in the vicinity even though rarely glimpsed in recent years.  Almost bouncing with excitement, he stepped forward to be hugged exuberantly by Megan, Joel and H, and even Rafe slapped his back in genuine pleasure as others moved forward to either touch him, shake his hand or ruffle his hair.

And throughout it all, Jim looked on, his own smile so wide he thought his face might split, but totally uncaring. Until he too was drawn into the group celebration, and that was certainly something new for him.  And surprisingly good.  He found himself laughing alongside his guide, thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to indulge in a few minutes’ light-hearted horseplay.

It was a few minutes before he realised that Simon had exited his office, and although his boss’ face reflected good-natured tolerance for the merry scene playing before him, it was also obvious that he had something far more serious to impart.

Sure enough, Simon coughed loudly to get his people’s full attention before speaking, a distinct and unexpected hint of apology in his tone.

“Sorry to interrupt the celebrations, ladies and gentlemen, but I’ve just received some news that I think you’ll all want to hear. I’ve just received an update from Lt Mainwaring…” and at those words, you could have heard a pin drop, the silence was so immediate and absolute.  Aware that everyone present was hanging on his every word, Simon continued.

“As you all know, as soon as we were aware of Marcus Kozinski’s probable involvement in the attempted bombing, Alan Mainwaring organised his tactical squads to check out every one of the scumbag’s known haunts and boltholes in order to bring him and his cronies in for questioning. He reports, however, that they’ve drawn a complete blank.  Kozinski and his main men have apparently bugged out and are no longer in Cascade.  It would appear that the reward for his failure to complete his mission is immediate and total ostracism by both his fellow criminals and the political wing of the Party.  Word on the street is that he has been disowned and set up to take the fall if we ever catch up with him.  Suffice it to say that he’ll never regain any sort of position in the Party’s hierarchy again.  In fact, they may well execute him themselves if it turns out to be more expedient.

“The reaction from Digby Claybourne’s office is even more interesting. He’s positively howling with indignation and bewilderment; can’t understand why he wasn’t filled in on the plot.  Not that he’s expressed any horror or remorse on behalf of the potential innocent victims, of course.  Just ranting on to whoever will listen about incompetence and betrayal and such like.  And I have a strong suspicion that once it really hits home that as far as his political sponsors and handlers are concerned he and his team were nothing more than collateral damage, I think his disillusion will be complete.  I can’t see him standing as a Party candidate again, and he’s just mad enough to make a real issue over it.

“Mind you, if he becomes too much of a nuisance, he may be quietly disposed of anyway, and I hate to have to say it – but it couldn’t happen to a nicer guy!” and Simon’s face twisted with disgust which was as much self-directed as towards the subject of his diatribe. He was well aware of the unfortunate fact that if one has to come up against slimy bastards like Claybourne, some of the filth just has to rub off.

“Anyhow, on a happier note, Ellison and Sandburg’s award ceremony is scheduled for two days’ time as part of another gathering in City Hall. The Mayor and the Chief as well as the other city fathers want to make their own point with a deliberate show of strength and faith in the Security Forces and in particular the Serious Crimes Division, in defiance of the Party and any other potential detractors.

“Naturally, the building’ll be searched from top to bottom by our very best personnel – including every available sentinel and guide – but I’m sure we’ll be safe enough this time,” and he chuckled grimly as he surveyed his audience, pleased to see the nods of approval and determined expressions on every face.

“Right then, people. Back to work.  We’ve still got plenty of outstanding cases to catch up on, so let’s get on with it so at least some of us can enjoy the award ceremony.  It’s about time some of our own got some recognition!”  And with that he turned on his heel and returned to his office, a broad grin on his face now as he listened to the murmurs of approval and swell of upbeat comments in his wake as the impromptu gathering broke up and his people returned to work, a new spring in their step and renewed sense of purpose lightening the atmosphere and imbuing it with an almost palpable energy.

\----------------------------------------

**Two days later, City Hall:**

Watching from the wings, Jim and Blair waited impatiently for the steady stream of guests to take their seats so that the ceremony could begin. Both looked immaculate with Jim resplendent in his dress uniform while Blair was clad this time in a tailored version of the brown jumpsuit, sporting the much-prized Guide insignia on the collar.  His shining curls were pulled back into a neat ponytail at his nape again and on this occasion he also sported a single plain gold hoop in his earlobe specifically at Jim’s request.  In truth, Jim thought his guide looked delectable, and wanted to show him off.  He was certain that Blair was aware of the reason even if he couldn’t really understand it.  Chronically deficient in the self-esteem department as always, at least the kid hadn’t questioned or refused his sentinel’s wishes, simply offering Jim a gentle and tolerant smile as he fastened the earring in place.

Looking down fondly at the smaller figure almost vibrating with nervous energy at his side, Jim scanned him quickly with his senses, unsurprised when Blair glanced at the podium and shuddered minutely. Jim knew he was thinking of the last time they had been standing nearby, so close to being obliterated like so many others by that hidden bomb.  And Jim felt the same horror, but not so much on his own behalf.  For him it was more the utterly inconceivable possibility that his beloved companion could have died before Jim could legally bind the beautiful young man to him for good in the eyes of the world, and not just as sentinel and guide.  Something that he fully intended to remedy as soon as this ceremony was done.

“You OK, baby?” he whispered, squeezing Blair gently with the arm wrapped around his guide’s waist.

Looking up gratefully, Blair grinned as he replied, “Yeah, man. It’s fine, really.  Just a bit of a flashback is all.

“Hey,” he continued, excited again. “I didn’t expect so many SF personnel to attend.  There seems to be representatives from pretty much every department!  Even Vera’s here! You’re a hero, man!”

“No more than you are, Chief,” Jim responded a little tartly. “And if that old bat’s here, it’ll be to see you, babe, not me.  But you’re right.  I’m surprised myself at how many people have turned up.  I mean, despite being a potential bloody massacre, when all’s said and done, as a failed attempt at sabotage it’s just one more incident in the Force’s ‘never-ending fight against crime and sedition’ to quote our estimable Chief McGinty.  And like Simon said only this morning, all departments still have their own heavy case-loads to deal with, so they couldn’t all attend even if they wanted to.”

“I know, big guy, but it’s humbling to realise how many did want to come. I’m so proud of you…er…us,” he amended hurriedly, snickering at Jim’s quick reproving glance.

Just then, the Mayor and his fellow dignitaries swept into the hall, including Chief McGinty of Cascade Security Forces, and the ceremony got underway.

Not unsurprisingly, there were the usual speeches to weather, and Jim was inclined to think that, even if in this instance much of the content was laudable, the delivery often imparted more about the speakers’ own egotism than anything else. Nevertheless, the general sentiment was much appreciated by the Security Force contingent at least, so they were prepared to indulge the grandstanding as long as it didn’t delay the important part of the ceremony too much.  Hearty applause greeted comments regarding both Jim and Blair’s ‘courage under fire’, so to speak, and beside Jim, Blair blushed bright red at the reference to his own performance despite being a new and untrained guide.  And it had to be said that he was incredibly grateful that no reference either overt or implied was made to his less-than-virtuous recent past.

Finally, the words dried up, and Jim and Blair were summoned to the podium to receive their medals while their colleagues cheered, stamped and gave them a standing ovation with absolutely no restraint or attempt at synthetic decorum. They were rewarded by a blindingly bright smile from Blair which would have gladdened the hardest heart, while Jim’s more dignified but no less appreciative response earned him the sort of respect which had always been his due.

Duty done, the dignitaries filed away from the podium, leaving Jim and Blair to enjoy the congratulations and adulation from their colleagues and admirers.

The socialising that followed was both a challenge and a pleasure for sentinel and guide. They were gladdened by the genuine congratulations and companionship offered by their friends and colleagues whilst having to politely respond to the more pompous and disingenuous platitudes offered by the self-acknowledged ‘great and good’.  Simon, Megan and Joel had managed to attend, representing the SCD, and Blair in particular found himself at the receiving end of a great many hugs and squeezes and even a smoochy kiss or two on his rosy cheeks by the ever-demonstrative Aussie Inspector.  Even Simon unbent enough to pat him on the shoulder in avuncular affection, his gruff, “Congratulations kid,” earning him a shy smile of pure pleasure.  H and Rafe managed to drop in for a short while in between following up on some leads in the area, and Blair was greatly relieved when he picked up nothing but sincerity in Rafe’s demeanour when he somewhat diffidently offered the young detective his hand.  Perhaps Rafe was prepared to accept him after all, in which case a grateful Blair was only too happy to reciprocate.

However, after enduring what he considered to be a reasonable and acceptable attendance, Jim was about to suggest to Blair that they make themselves scarce when he spotted a most unwelcome figure approaching them.

Expression closing off immediately, Jim was aware of Blair’s instant empathic response as he moved up beside his sentinel, determined to offer whatever support Jim needed as William Ellison came to a halt in front of them.

However, on this occasion, although the older Ellison appeared just as self-assured and perceptive as before, this time Blair discerned a more conciliatory tone in his voice and overall attitude as he addressed his son.

“Congratulations Jimmy. This is no more than you deserve – and your partner also.  I know you’ll no doubt find it very hard to believe, but I’m very proud of you, son.  Grateful too.  If it hadn’t been for you and Guide Sandburg, I’m fairly sure I wouldn’t be here now, and the same goes for a good many others here.”

Considerably disconcerted by the unexpected praise, Jim took a moment to marshal his thoughts and his response was therefore rather stilted. Blair could tell that Jim’s father’s candid words had shaken his lover, and Jim was plainly finding it hard to come to terms with the older man’s apparent change of heart.

“Um, thanks Dad. And you’re welcome.  But we were just doing our jobs, and if it hadn’t been for Blair, I’d have been too late.  So it’s him who really deserves the kudos and the commendation.”

As Blair shot him an irritated glance and opened his mouth to dispute Jim’s claim, his words died in his throat as William interjected, this time including Blair in his shrewd and unflinching gaze.

“So I believe, Jimmy. Your Captain Banks filled me in on the whole episode as he understands it, and I agree that Guide Sandburg acted selflessly and courageously as your back-up.  You both deserve the ‘kudos and commendations’, son.”

Turning his attention on a wide-eyed and somewhat flabbergasted Blair, he continued, his voice still calm and level, but unquestionably sincere and compelling.

“Guide Sandburg, I owe you an apology. I was less than polite to you when we were first introduced, and for that I am truly sorry.  I judged you on face value and against my own standards, and I was wrong on both counts.  It’s obvious that Jimmy is more than satisfied with your capability, and I am in no position to disagree.

“If you will allow it, I should like to make it up to you in some way. I am a wealthy man, as Jimmy can confirm, and if there is anything I can do for you to show my gratitude both for my own life, and for Jimmy’s sanity, then I’d like you to tell me.”

Blair regarded him in stunned silence for long moments, finally realising that his mouth was hanging open in shock. Reddening in embarrassment as he was certain he was coming over as some sort of imbecile, he snapped his jaws shut as he considered the man’s words.  Swallowing hard, he glanced up at Jim’s equally perplexed face before summoning up the courage to answer.

“Um, I’m sorry, Mr Ellison. You’ve really taken me by surprise, sir.  I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t know what to say?”

And he was astonished yet again when William actually chuckled and smiled at him. “No problem, young man.  But I’m sure there must be something you’d like.  A new personal vehicle, perhaps?” and he contemplated the shaken young man benignly, plainly anticipating some request along those lines.  After another short pause, Blair cleared his throat and spoke, and this time it was William who was taken aback.  Because instead of asking for something for himself, as William would have expected, Blair’s request was actually completely in character as Jim was smugly aware.  With a pleased and proud Jim looking on, he started off a little diffidently, but his words increasing their momentum as he warmed to his theme.

“Um, if you’re really serious, Mr Ellison, there is something I should like very much. I’m sure you know of the many shelters for the homeless in Cascade?  Well, sir, there’s one in particular to which I owe a huge debt of gratitude.  It’s called the New Dawn Shelter, and is run by my friend Rosie Wilkins.  For the past few years they have been forced to rely on any source they can secure for food and basic provisions.  And sad to say it has often been through Party resources for services rendered.

“But if you could see your way to helping out – perhaps encouraging some of your business associates also - then New Dawn and other shelters like it wouldn’t have to rely on clandestine and black market deliveries to bulk out the dwindling supplies they receive from over-stretched charities.

“It’s what I’d truly like sir…” and he broke off blushing deeply again, and astounded at his own temerity. As Jim reeled him in for a comforting one-armed hug, it was the older Ellison’s turn to be completely lost for words.  After a few moments of bemused contemplation, William nodded briskly, finding himself completely won over, previous assumptions notwithstanding, and gladly so.

“You’ll have it, young man. Just get me the details, and I’ll see it done.  And I’ll spread the word amongst my colleagues also – see if we can’t get several shelters covered.

“And now, I must take my leave.   I’m wanted over at Harry’s coffee klatch,” and he grinned disarmingly, nodding towards where the Mayor was holding court once again by the buffet table.

Leaving two decidedly stunned younger men in his wake, he strolled unhurriedly across the room, a pleased grin plastered across his face as he congratulated himself on a job both well done and personally satisfying for a change. Perhaps there was hope for this jaded old businessman yet….

\---------------------------------------

**Epilogue: Job done:**

**Later that afternoon, the loft:**

Jim and Blair stood on the balcony pressed close together, cold beers in hand and winding down nicely from the stresses of the day. Their link hummed between them as they relaxed in each other’s proximity while enjoying a few minutes’ calm introspection.  Jim had removed his uniform coat and tie, and had unbuttoned the stiff collar of his dress shirt, glad to be free of its constraint.  Sighing softly in small pleasure as he rubbed the back of his neck, the action serving to ease muscles taut with tension, he was distracted by Blair’s honeyed tones. 

“Need some help with that, man?” and Jim looked down into warm blue eyes, basking in the love reflected there and thoroughly appreciating the gentle affection that curved the lush lips into an enticing smile.

“Not just yet, babe, although you can relax me as much as you like later,” Jim replied with a suggestive chuckle and warm smile of his own. “Just for now, I’m simply going to enjoy the view,” and it was plain that he didn’t just mean the one from the balcony.  Blushing endearingly at Jim’s open admiration, Blair still managed a quick if slightly self-conscious twirl, snickering in his turn, “Be my guest, O Sentinel Mine, but just let me know when you need more than just a look…” and he winked cheekily then laughed aloud at Jim’s mock growl.

In truth, as far as Jim was concerned, Blair was a sight to behold. He had loosened his hair tie so that the shining curls fell to just below his shoulder blades in silky dark auburn waves.  He had also unzipped his close-fitting jumpsuit almost down to his waist, and the tantalising glimpses of smooth skin revealed as he moved beckoned to Jim, demanding that he explore further.  However, he restrained himself with effort, because there were a few things he wanted to discuss with his guide before they were both distracted by burgeoning physical desires.

Nodding in unworried acceptance when Jim simply squeezed him comfortably around his waist, Blair turned his attention back to the view of the distant marina, knowing intuitively that Jim would speak when he was good and ready.

In truth, Jim had a lot to think about, mostly concerning how he was going to orchestrate the upcoming discussion.  Having never considered words to be his strong suit, he worried whether he would be able to explain his hopes and the motives behind them clearly enough to convince Blair of his veracity despite knowing that the empath didn’t require a verbal explanation to justify the emotions he would read emanating from his sentinel.  It was a matter of pride in a way.  Pride in his own ability to woo his beloved guide without the necessity of recourse to their empathic link.

But if it turned out that they needed the link after all, then so be it. Just as long as Blair agreed with his plans….

Casting his mind back to the previous day, he knew he had given Blair pause for thought when he had absented himself from the bullpen for a few hours, intent on pursuing several goals for the benefit of his guide, and, by extension, him also. He knew from Blair’s speculative glance that the kid had been unconvinced by his claim that they were just routine chores necessary for the job, even though he had assured Blair that he wouldn’t use his senses unsupported.  Turning his attention back to the reports he was wading through, Blair had simply shrugged in grudging acceptance.

“Just as long as you call if you need me, man. I trust you not to put yourself in danger.”

And Jim had soothed his guilty conscience by imagining how his news would be received, should he be successful in his mission. It wasn’t as if Blair had the confidence yet to trawl Jim’s mind for secrets during bonding, even though he had the power, so Jim’s surprises would remain just that until he chose to reveal them.  And that time was fast approaching.

Eventually, Jim knew he could delay no longer, so he turned to face Blair, pulling the smaller man around so they were almost chest to chest, his lover’s enticing scent assailing Jim’s nostrils as he smiled gently down into the inquisitive gaze.

“We need to talk, baby. But don’t worry.  It’s nothing bad, promise!” he added hurriedly as Blair’s attractive features immediately took on a faintly worried expression.  “Come sit down inside and let’s get settled, OK?  We have quite a few things to discuss, so we might as well do it in comfort.”

Still a little apprehensive, Blair nodded agreeably anyway, and allowed Jim to guide him to the loveseat, where he sat as indicated, glad when Jim sat beside him, hitching around so that he could study Blair’s reactions.

Taking one of Blair’s hands in his, Jim released the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding and began to speak.

“You know, babe, I was so proud of you today. You looked amazing, and I know for sure you won over everyone there, even the pompous windbags who were only there for show.  And my Dad.  I think you could have knocked him down with a feather when you made your request, sweetheart.  I don’t think I’ve seen him that stupefied in a long time, if ever.  But it won’t have done him any harm, that’s for sure.  It’s no bad thing for him to be reminded that not everyone of his acquaintance is out for his own gain.  He was definitely well impressed, and I know him well enough to be certain that he’ll live up to his word.  Rosie can expect a new and safe source of supplies from now on, so I don’t think she’ll be troubled by the Party’s criminal elements again.  With no leverage and Simon’s continued patrols, there would be no point in approaching her again, especially as you’re safe also.  Which was probably the hardest thing for her to bear?”

As he talked Jim was monitoring Blair carefully, needing to know that the young man was OK with what he was saying. He wasn’t surprised, however, to see Blair’s eyes grow faintly misty as he swallowed hard against a lump of emotion rising in his throat.  Gently stroking a soft cheek with the back of one hand, he murmured, “You OK, babe?  I don’t mean to upset you…”

Shaking his head quickly, Blair gulped and hastened to reassure his big lover. “No, no, Jim, I’m fine, really.  It’s just so nice of you to say, and I’m so glad you feel that way about Rosie.  She’s such a good person, Jim.  Like Mitch and Hilda.  I’d really like for us all to meet up properly some day.  I’m sure you’d all get to like each other given the opportunity to really get to know where you’re coming from.”

Grinning at such a typical response from his good-hearted guide, Jim nodded in agreement, saying, “You’re welcome, babe, but it’s nothing but the truth. And I’m willing to meet up with your friends if it’s something you really want, Chief.  It’s only fair since you’ve had to face up to my friends and colleagues whether you liked it or not.

“But there’s something else I want to run by you also. You see, babe, I know it was a huge disappointment for you when you had to leave Rainier.  It would have been even if you hadn’t been forced to work for Starshewski.  But I wondered if, now that some teaching has resumed at the university, you still wanted the chance to take up your studies again?  Because I want you to know, babe, that I’m all for it, even though it would probably have to be on a part-time basis thanks to our heavy workload.  If you feel you have the energy outside of our normal duties, then you should go for it.”  And here it was Jim’s turn to blush a little before continuing, hoping he hadn’t overstepped the mark in his desire to make things right.

As Blair squeezed his hands, once again unable to voice his feelings, Jim met his wide and appealing gaze. “See, kiddo, I hope you won’t mind me going behind your back, but I wanted to make sure it was an option before running it by you.  I didn’t want to make promises I couldn’t keep, baby.  Anyhow, I checked with Simon first, and he said he was all for you getting some real qualifications as long as it didn’t impinge on your duties as my guide.  So then I went to Rainier yesterday, and met up with your old mentor, Dr Stoddard.  And he said he would be overjoyed for you to return to your studies.  He said he’d had high hopes of you in the field of anthropology, although he suspected criminology or forensics would be more apt now.

“But that would be your choice, Blair – if you decide it’s what you want?”

He was suddenly hit by an armful of sobbing guide, as Blair threw himself at his sentinel, almost overwhelmed by his emotions. Astonishment, excitement, gratitude and love all fought for the upper hand as he desperately clung to Jim, trying to come up with the right words to convey his thoughts and feelings.  With their link now wide open, Jim didn’t actually need any words in order to comprehend just how happy his guide was, but Blair needed to tell him anyway.

“Oh…oh man! I can’t…I don’t know what to say?  Gods, Jim.  I realised early on that you meant it when you said you would always care for me, but never in my wildest dreams did I expect this of you.  I mean, I knew you would do your best for me, but this is above and beyond, man!  No one – and I mean no one – has ever gone this far for me before.  I don’t deserve you, man.  You’re the best!”

Hugging Blair tightly to him, Jim wasn’t surprised to feel a few tears of his own trickling down his face as he responded. “It’s no more than you deserve, baby.  I mean it!  You’re a good soul, Blair Sandburg, and I’m proud to call you my guide.

“But if you can bear it, there’s one more thing I need to tell you – ask you. Are you up for it?” and he pushed the smaller man away slightly, wiping at the still-flowing tears spilling from the big blue eyes with his thumbs.  Receiving a round-eyed nod as Blair hiccupped a little, snuffling into the tissue Jim obligingly passed to him, Jim nodded briskly, building up his courage for what he believed would be the most difficult but potentially the most rewarding of his revelations this night.

Shifting around a bit more in his seat, his questing hand sought the two small objects he had secreted behind the loveseat’s cushions the previous night. Holding Blair’s rapt and quizzical gaze, he slid gracefully to his knees in front of the younger man, feeling a little silly, but needing to do this anyway.  “Blair, I need you to understand that you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.  You can tell through our link that I mean what I say, but it’s not just about our sentinel and guide bond.  It’s about you and me, Jim and Blair.  When we so nearly lost each other because of that bomb, I realised that I needed to make you mine in the eyes of the world, and not just as a working partnership.  At times like these, especially in our jobs, there is always going to be an element of danger.  And I couldn’t bear to think that, should anything happen to me, you wouldn’t be looked after.  Wouldn’t be entitled to everything a legal life partner could expect.”  Holding out the small boxes, he opened them to display two matching rings, simple bands, but as tasteful as Blair would have expected.

“Blair Sandburg, would you do me the honour of becoming my spouse, to have and to hold, for ever and ever, amen?”

And this time there was no further outpouring of tears and sobs. Blair was far beyond that stage as he absorbed his sentinel’s words, finally understanding the real meaning of Jim’s feelings for him.  Holding Jim’s steady but noticeably anxious gaze, his own face reflecting the depths of his love for the man who had become the centre of his universe, he slid down to his knees also, reaching up to cup Jim’s face in gentle palms as he cleared his throat.  Pouring every bit of sincerity of which he was capable into his expression and through their link, his reply was simple, but everything Jim needed to hear.

“Yes, Jim Ellison. I will.”

At hearing those longed-for words, Jim’s expression morphed from serious and anxious to overjoyed delight, his smile wider than any Blair had yet witnessed on his sentinel and lover’s face. Cupping Blair’s face in his hands, he lowered his head to take the lush mouth in a loving and possessive kiss.  Blair immediately opened to him, and he explored the warm cavern with pleasure, growling softly in his throat at Blair’s eager response.  As their passion built, Jim gave himself permission at last to explore the supple body beneath his hands, and lowered the fastener of Blair’s jumpsuit as far as it could go.  Peeling the suit off his lover’s shoulders and down his arms, he released warm flesh and soft skin to his touch, all the while returning again and again for urgent kisses while Blair struggled to undo Jim’s shirt buttons, needing to do some exploring of his own.  Breaking off briefly, they spoke in unison.  “Bed.  Now!” and shared a breathless chuckle as they rose to their feet, holding hands as they hurried up the stairs to their big bed, where Jim scooped up his giggling guide and dropped him in the centre.  Grabbing the legs of the jumpsuit, Jim grunted, “Lift up a bit, baby!” as he pulled the garment completely off, to reveal a naked and totally desirable body which shivered and trembled in eager anticipation of his touch.

“Come on, man! Please!  You’ve still got way too many clothes on!”  And how could he ignore a command like that?  Growling in impatient lust, Jim stripped himself quickly, and threw himself down beside his guide, who was no longer giggling, but fairly glowing with the fervent heat of his own lust and desire.

“Take me, Jim. Please.  Now!” 

Responding with a will, Jim wasted as little time as possible preparing his smaller partner, knowing that there would be time enough for gentle lovemaking later. Blair quickly straddled his big lover, lowering himself as swiftly as possible onto Jim’s leaking erection, then began to ride, their ardour building to an almost impossible intensity until with a shuddering cry, Blair came strongly, his spasming heat bringing Jim with him milliseconds later.   And with their mutual orgasm, the bond arced between them with glorious white heat and power, and this time there was no holding back; no secrets either hidden or ignored as they finally learned everything there was to know about each other.

And they were as one.

\-------------------------------------

Much later, Jim roused from sleep, and raised his head slightly to gaze fondly down at the curly head pillowed on his chest. After a further session of gentle, but no less intense lovemaking, they had fallen asleep in their usual tangle of limbs.  Blair was still deeply asleep, looking like a debauched angel with mussed curls spread over his shoulders and partly over Jim’s too.  One arm was wrapped around Jim’s waist, while a leg was thrown across his thighs, almost as if the smaller man wanted to hold Jim in place.  As if Jim would want to be anywhere else.  ‘ _Possessive little shit, thank the gods!’_ he mused, and his arms enfolded Blair in an embrace just as loving and possessive as he contemplated a few stray thoughts before slipping back to sleep.

Lazily exploring his feelings, Jim knew that he had never been so happy or felt so complete as he did now, and it was thanks to the bundle of joy and love in his arms. True, the future was uncertain, and who knew if the world would ever be a safe or better place in which to live.  But as long as good people were prepared to work and fight for that goal, there was always hope.  Jim had to believe that.  And through it all, he and Blair would face it together; two halves of one soul.

**The End**


End file.
